


Neville's Nightmare

by ShadyGrim



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Creepy, Dark Magic, Exorcisms, Gen, Horror, Inferi, Necromancy, Paranormal, Scary, Supernatural Elements, sorcery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-13 23:34:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 24,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7990318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadyGrim/pseuds/ShadyGrim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neville begins having terrifying nightmares about Professor Snape. Neville's roommates think it's funny until they all begin having the exact same dreams. When the boys fall ill, they suspect Snape's Dark Arts skills to be at the heart of their misfortunes and devise a plan to stop him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just having some fun with her characters. No profit is being made from this story.

"Do you mind if I walk with you guys?" mumbled Neville through his thick scarf. He was bundled so warmly that only his eyes were visible.

"Huh?" said Ron as he stopped and turned around. Neville pulled down his scarf and repeated the question. "Yeah, sure."

The boys, standing three abreast, began slowly to trudge their way through the snow back to Hogwarts.

"Where's Hermione?" mumbled Neville through his scarf.

"Studying," answered Harry.

"Where else?" snorted Ron.

"Oh, look at that," mumbled Neville as he stooped to pick something off the ground.

Ron and Harry walked on a few paces before realizing that Neville was no longer with them. They stopped and turned to see him dusting snow off of what looked to be a child's doll.

"He's playing with dolls now?" said Harry.

Ron shrugged his shoulders and both he and Harry were about to walk off when they saw Neville give a startled jump. The suddenness of his movement made them jump too. Curious now, they moved closer.

"What's that you've got, Neville?" shouted Harry. Neville mumbled an answer.

"Take that damn scarf off your mouth!" shouted Ron. "We can't understand you!"

Neville tucked his scarf under his chin. "I thought it was a doll, but it's alive. It moved." He began to unbutton the top of his coat and put the tiny creature close to his body to warm it up.

"Ugh," said Ron. "That thing's hideous."

"It looks just like Snape," said Harry.

"Any idea what it is?" asked Neville, his little bundle now safely stowed away. Neither Ron nor Harry had any idea what is was. "I'll take him to Hagrid. He'll know what to do with him."

The creature looked like a tiny naked man with very large hands and feet, scrawny overly long limbs and long, stringy, black hair that obscured its face. The boys resumed their trek towards Hogwarts; this time with a quickened pace. Not because of the little doll-man, but because it was nearing dinner and Ron was starving.

##

The boys deposited their winter wrappings in their dorm room and made their way to the Great Hall. Neville lagged behind to tuck his new pet into his bed. Harry and Ron quickly forgot about Neville and his doll-man, and resumed their deep and profound conversation about Quidditch. Their conversation died down some as Ron piled food into his mouth. Hermione sat across from Harry with an open book in front of her. Ginny sat to Hermione's left, across from her brother. Neville accidentally elbowed Ginny, causing her to spill her pumpkin juice.

"Careful, Neville!"

"Sorry," said Neville, as he absentmindedly rubbed the area of his chest where he'd held the little doll-man.

"You okay, Neville?" said Harry.

"Yeah, why?" answered Neville, still rubbing his chest.

"Well, you're sort of...rubbing," said Harry as he mimicked Neville.

Neville looked bewildered, like he had no idea what Harry was talking about. "I'm fine, really."

"Okay then," said Harry, who exchanged a perplexed glance with Ron. The boys resumed their usual habit of chatting with Ginny and ignoring Hermione's book, as well as any references she made to it.

##

The beds in the boys' dormitory were arranged in a sort of semi-circle around the room with their headboards butted up against the walls. Neville's bed was located centrally. Harry's bed was to Neville's right, and Ron's bed was to Harry's right. On Neville's left was Seamus' bed, and to Seamus' left sat Dean's bed. The boys had gone to bed a few hours ago and all were sleeping peacefully, except for one. Neville, who was lying on his back, began to shift slightly and moan softly. His head shifted, and his eyes rolled agitatedly underneath their lids.

Neville's eyes opened with a start. He felt sweaty. He let out a short yelp when he saw a figure standing at the foot of his bed. He tried to call for Harry, but was unable to utter a sound. Neville recognized the figure immediately despite the fact that it was half-shrouded in shadow; the slight build, the loose-fitting robes, and the pale angular face partially obscured by stringy black hair. It was Snape!

Neville couldn't see his eyes, but Snape's face appeared immobile, almost slack-jawed. Snape pounced, without warning, onto Neville's bed. Neville was pinned under his blankets. He was shocked by the weight of Snape. If he hadn't known better, he would've thought Hagrid had just jumped on top of him. Snape's movements were almost cat-like; smooth and supple yet alarmingly unnatural as he slowly crawled over Neville's body. Snape stopped and hovered over Neville with his stringy black hair laying on Neville's face. His hot foul-smelling breath steamed into Neville's nose.

"Neville!" shouted Harry. "Open your eyes!" Neville's eyes popped open, and he saw Harry standing over him with his lighted wand in hand, and an irritable-looking Ron standing beside him.

"Where did he go? Did you see him?" stammered Neville.

"Who?" said Harry.

"Snape! Snape - he was here! He was on top of me...." Neville's voice trailed off as Harry and Ron exchange amused glances. The room had become silent.

"So, did you kiss him?" said Seamus a little too loudly, a broad silly grin plastered across his face.

"What?"

"You shouted," began Ron, "'no, no get off me. Harry help.'"

"No, you don't understand," said Neville. "It was really scary."

"A kiss from Snape would be pretty horrible," replied Harry. Ron had already gotten back into bed.

"Give the Git a goodnight kiss from me," said Dean. Everyone laughed - everyone but Neville.

"It's not funny!"

"You just had a nightmare," said Harry. "Go back to sleep." Harry didn't wait for a reply. He turned and sat on his bed, set his glasses on the nightstand, rubbed his tired eyes, and said through a yawn, "Nox." He set his wand down next to his glasses, laid down, and was asleep almost instantly. Neville rolled onto his side. He lay awake for some time before falling into an uneasy restless sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Neville felt drained when Seamus woke him up in the morning. He washed and dressed for class in a stupor. He felt very thirsty, and stopped for drinks of water between every class. He had several glasses of pumpkin juice with each meal, and another large glass before bed. He was the first of the boys to retire. He hoped for a peaceful sleep, but it didn't happen. He had the same nightmare, and again was awoken by Harry calling his name and standing next to him. This pattern continued for nearly two weeks. By the twelfth night, Neville felt himself being slapped across the face and roused enough to hear Harry hoarsely shout, "Wake up!" The second he opened his eyes, the same hoarse voice told him curtly to go back to sleep. Harry was back in bed before Neville could sit up. Across the room, with silvery moonlight gently cascading across his bed, sat Dean. He was glaring at Neville.

"One more night of this, Neville," growled Dean, "and I'll put a bloody pillow over your face!"

"Will everyone please just shut up?" pleaded Ron.

"Sorry guys," said Neville.

"Not another word," spat Seamus.

##

The next day Neville passed out on his way to Potions class. The boys were too tired to crack jokes about it. They visited Neville just before dinner and were grilled by Madame Pomfrey about Neville's condition.

"A boy doesn't suddenly become anemic without a reason!" snapped Pomfrey. "Are you boys certain that you haven't seen anything out of the ordinary? Anything at all?"

"No Madame Pomfrey," answered Harry. "Neville's been fine until today."

"None of you are hiding any pets?"

"No, ma'am," said the boys, almost in unison.

"Alright, you may visit him, but don't agitate him in anyway. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am."

The boys seated themselves around a very groggy Neville. As tired as he was, he looked much better than he had. There was some color in his cheeks now as Madame Pomfrey had given him a Pepper-Up potion and a Blood Replenisher. About five minutes after they sat down, professor Snape strolled into the ward. Neville shrank a little into his bed. The other four boys glared at Snape. He was carrying a goblet in one hand and a small box containing six stoppered vials in the other. Madame Pomfrey had requested a broad spectrum anti-parasitic.

"Thank you, Professor," said Madame Pomfrey as she relieved Snape of his burdens.

"Not at all," replied Snape. "The goblet is for immediate use. The vials can be stored for up to six months."

"Excellent," said Pomfrey. "Hopefully we won't be needing them."

"Professor Sprout is fumigating the greenhouses, so any further infection will be unlikely."

Pomfrey's eyes shifted and Snape's followed as someone else entered the ward. It was Professor McGonagall. The adults lowered their voices so the boys couldn't hear.

"Parasites, Poppy? Are you sure?" said McGonagall.

"Not entirely, Minerva" responded Poppy. "He has what looks to be pairs of puncture marks all over him, so I initially thought they were caused by an animal of some sort."

"You don't think a vampire could've gotten into the castle?" said McGonagall with some alarm.

"No," replied Poppy. "He's not infected with vampirism, and he has no animal venom in him that I can identify. A parasitic infection is the most likely culprit what with all the dangerous exotic plants he works with. It would easily explain the anemia too."

"And the puncture marks?" said Snape.

"Well, there are so many grouped together. They could easily give the impression of a pattern when, in fact, they are just random sores."

McGonagall shuddered. Snape looked up to see the boys glaring at him. He frowned and excused himself.

"Thank you, Severus," said McGonagall.

"My pleasure, Professor," replied Snape as he strode away.

"I've got the house elves disinfecting the boy's dormitory now. Are any of the others sick?"

"No, they're looking rather tired for some reason, but they're not anemic, nor do they have any sores on them."

The two women moved to Neville's bedside. Madame Pomfrey sat the box of vials on the table.

"Off you go, boys. Dinner's already started," said McGonagall.

Madame Pomfrey handed the goblet to Neville. "Drink all of it." She waited for him to finish.

"Mmm, nutmeg," said Neville.

Pomfrey collected the empty goblet and the box of vials and toddled off to her storeroom.

"How are you feeling, Longbottom?"

"I feel a lot better, Professor. I'm just really tired."

"I'll let you get some rest then, and I'll check in on you later."

##

Professor McGonagall peered suspiciously at Neville's four roommates as she strode by the Gryffindor table. They were so tired, they looked like zombies. Finnigan rested his chin on the table and was scraping food from his plate into his mouth. Dean Thomas' head rested on his fist. He scooped up a fork-full of food, missed his mouth, but still continued to chew. Weasley had never been seen to eat so slowly; his head periodically dropped so that his chin rested on his chest. Potter's head was cupped in one hand and hovered precariously over his mashed potatoes.

"Harry?" said Hermione. She was seated between Harry and Seamus. "Harry!" she said a little louder when he didn't respond.

"I don't know, I said!" shouted Harry as his head slid off his hand and onto his plate. Laughter erupted from both ends of the Gryffindor table when Harry raised his head to show his face covered in mashed potatoes.

"What is going on with you four?" said Hermione as she wiped potatoes off of Harry's face.

"Nothing, Hermione," answered Ron. "We're just tired."

"All four of you? Are you sure you're not sick too?"

"Madame Pomfrey said we're fine," said Seamus.

"Stop chewing, Dean! You haven't got any food in your mouth." Dean opened his eyes and saw a large pile of food sitting in his lap. "You four are up to something, and I will find out what it is."

"Honestly, Hermione, we're just tired," insisted Harry.


	3. Chapter 3

They all went immediately to their dorm room leaving Hermione and Ginny to talk about them in the common room.

"Do you think we should've told Madame Pomfrey about Neville's nightmares?" said Seamus.

"No!" shouted the other three.

"I was just askin' guys."

"Do you know what would happen if word got out that Neville was dreaming about snogging Snape?" said Ron.

"Oh, yeah, I see what you mean," answered Seamus.

"We can't embarrass Neville like that," said Dean. "We'll just keep it between the four of us."

"Right," said Seamus.

"I'm in," said Ron. "You, Harry?"

"Yeah, I'm in. I wouldn't spread a rumor like that about my worst enemy. Well, maybe Malfoy."

They wasted no time getting into bed. Their sheets were crisp and clean. Their beds had never felt so comfortable. They were asleep a little more than an hour when they were all shaken out of their slumber by screams.

"Oh, shut up, Neville!" shouted Ron.

"It's not Neville," said Harry as he reached for his glasses.

Dean, with lighted wand, stood over Seamus calling his name. Seamus woke with a start and sat bolt upright. He received a cuff on the back of the head from Dean.

"What was that for?"

"For waking us all up!" spat Dean as he settled back into bed.

"I had a nightmare. The same one Neville had. It was horrible, and it definitely wasn't about snogging."

"Oh, great," grumbled Dean.

"We're all exhausted here," said Harry, "and we're all worried about Neville. That's all it is, exhaustion and nerves."

Ron got up and put on his dressing gown and shoes. "Fancy a trip to the kitchens, Harry?"

"Okay," answered Harry. "You two want anything?"

"An orange fizz," said Seamus as he lay back down, this time on his side, facing Dean.

"Yeah," snapped Dean. "I'd like a Draught of Living Death so I can get some bloody sleep!"

##

Harry and Ron returned with their arms laden with food and drink. They had just reached their dorm room door when Dean let out an hysterical scream. They burst in to see Dean standing on his bed with his wand drawn and pointing at Neville's bed.

"There! It's there!"

"Calm down," said Ron. He and Harry dumped all the food onto Dean's bed. They and Seamus drew their wands and cautiously approached Neville's bed. Ron stood at the foot, Harry stood on one side and Seamus on the other. They cautiously peered under the bed and saw nothing. They looked around the room and in their trunks. They even turned their beds on end and found nothing.

"You must've nodded off, Dean," said Ron.

"I was awake, I tell you!" snapped Dean.

"Okay, let's all try to stay calm," said Harry. "Can you describe what you saw?"

"Yeah, I got out of bed to stretch, and I looked over at Neville's bed. The clouds parted from the moon and the moonlight came through the window and shined right on it. It was sitting all crouched like on Neville's footboard. It was perched there like a bird. It was small - a little smaller than Professor Flitwick. It was really skinny with really long arms and legs, and big hands and feet. It had straggly dark hair over its face. I couldn't see its eyes, but I saw its mouth. It was wide and full of sharp teeth. It looked right at me, and then it was gone."

"Did you see it, Seamus?" asked Ron.

"No, I was asleep."

"You guys believe me, don't you?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "Of course we believe you. But whatever it was, it's gone now."

"Gone?" shouted Dean. "Gone where? The windows are closed, the door--"

"It must've gone out when Harry and I opened the door."

"Oh," said Dean more calmly as he sat down on his bed. "Yeah, you're probably right."

Ron divided up the food and Harry passed out the drinks. "Right, there's a grape fizz for you, Dean. Two cherry fizzes for Ron and an orange fizz each for Seamus and me."

Chatting and snacking had relaxed them. Now, with their bellies full, they grew sleepy once more. Not an hour had passed when Dean began screaming and woke them all up. Moments later there was a pounding on the door. One of the older students shouted at them. "Knock off that racket in there!"

"Sorry!" hollered Seamus.

"Jackass," muttered Ron.

"Did you see it again?" asked Seamus.

"No, I had Neville's dream. It was horrible." Dean was a little breathless and drenched in sweat.

Harry, exhausted and annoyed, threw himself back on his pillow. He was now so overtired that he couldn't go back to sleep. Ron tossed and turned in a fit. Dean sat up in bed, ever watchful, with his wand clutched tightly to his chest. Seamus moved his bed against Dean's and lay with his back to him, and his eyes fixed on Neville's bed. It seemed to take an eternity for morning to come. They'd never in their lives been so grateful for a Saturday. They couldn't wait to get out of their dorm room and practically ran to the Great Hall for breakfast. Seamus and Dean were unusually thirsty, and both drank an entire pitcher of pumpkin juice.


	4. Chapter 4

It was a brisk sunny day. Most of the snow had melted. March had arrived and with it came unseasonably warm weather. Ron and Harry trudged out to the wide sweeping lawn and lay down in the grass to watch a couple of Hufflepuffs zooming around on their brooms. They fell fast asleep and didn't wake until Hermione called them for dinner.

"Your faces are sunburnt. Have you been sleeping on the lawn all day?"

"I guess," answered Ron, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Seamus and Dean have been sleeping in the common room all day. What is going on? I demand to know!" Hermione punctuated her final statement with a little stamp of her foot.

The boys stood to face her. "Please, Hermione," began Harry, "you can't tell anyone."

"If you're all getting ill like Neville, then Madame Pomfrey needs to know about it."

"We're not sick," said Ron.

"We need you to trust us," said Harry.

"Trust you two? Have you lost your minds?"

Ron and Harry looked around to make sure no one was within earshot. Ron leaned in and whispered, "Neville's been having nightmares."

"Nightmares?" repeated Hermione. "That's the big secret?"

"Shh," said Harry. "You don't understand. He's been dreaming about Snape."

"Well, that's not surprising. Neville's terrified of him."

"Look, I'm just going to lay it out for you--"

"Oh, please do, Ron. I'm beginning to get a headache."

"He's been dreaming about Snape...in bed."

"In bed?" repeated Hermione. "Do you mean asleep? What's so frightening about that? It's probably the only time the man's tolerable."

"In bed, as in...with Neville," explained Harry.

"Ewww," Hermione paled.

"Now she gets it," said Ron.

"How awful! It would be a living hell for Neville if anyone found out about that, especially professor Snape. But I don't understand why you four look so tired."

"Neville's kept us awake for nearly a fortnight," said Harry.

"We're so tired and on edge," added Ron, "that we're freaking each other out."

"Oh, I see. Well, Madame Pomfrey said she's keeping Neville in the hospital wing for a full week, just as a precaution, so you should all be able to get some rest. And I promise not to say anything about the nightmares. Poor Neville."

There's one thing that's been bothering me," said Harry. "That thing Dean saw. By his description, it looked a lot like that ugly Snape-doll, except for the size."

"I don't know if you're aware of this, Harry," began Hermione, "but every time you think something is ugly, you claim that it looks like Snape."

"Do not," replied Harry defiantly.

"You really do, mate," said Ron. "You call that giant yellow flower in the greenhouse, Snape's rose."

"So what?"

"Well, flowers don't really make think of the Git, you know?"

"It's obvious, isn't it?" said Harry. "It's shaped like his nose."

"Oh, I see," said Ron slowly. He shot a quick glance at Hermione. Both decided to drop the subject as they had more pressing issues to sort out.

"Do I really need to ask you two to explain about the doll?"

"It can't be the doll-man--" began Ron.

"Snape-doll," corrected Harry.

"--Neville gave it to Hagrid."

"Oh, that's right," said Harry.

"Still waiting," said Hermione.

"Neville found an ugly little doll in Hogsmeade," began Ron. "Well, he thought it was a doll, but then it moved, and we knew it was alive."

"The thing was hideous," said Harry. "It looked just like Snape."

"That's remarkable, Harry," said Hermione.

"You know how soft-hearted Neville is," said Ron. "He brought it back with him."

"Why didn't you tell someone? That doll could be infectious."

"It can't be the Snape-doll," said Harry. "Hagrid would've said something. You know he can't keep secrets."

"We should still talk to him. He could be in danger."

"I saw Hagrid yesterday, Hermione. He was fine," said Harry.

"Besides," added Ron, "we can't take the chance of him finding out about Neville's nightmares. It'd be all over Hogsmeade in a matter of hours."

Hermione let out an irritated sigh. "Yes, you're right, Ron."

"There's a first."

Hermione slapped his shoulder. "Oh, stop it! We have to do what we can to preserve Neville's reputation-such as it is. It's nearly dinner. We should go and see him."

##

Neville was sitting up in bed eating his dinner from a tray. He looked well-rested, and most of his color had returned. The trio sat around him; Harry on one side, and Ron and Hermione on the other.

"I found them, Neville," said Hermione.

"Sorry," said Harry. "We fell asleep."

"It's alright," said Neville.

"You gonna finish that?" asked Ron as he reached for Neville's tray. Hermione slapped his hand away.

"Neville needs his strength, Ron." Hermione looked around before speaking again. "So, Neville...um, how about telling me about that doll you found."

"What doll?"

"The one you found in Hogsmeade," said Ron, a bit more snappishly than he'd planned, but then he was very hungry.

"I didn't find a doll."

Hermione looked suspiciously from Neville to Harry to Ron.

"Neville, you showed it to us," said Harry. "Remember, I said it looked like Snape?"

"I don't know what you're all going on about. I didn't find any doll." Neville raised his arm to scratch his nose, revealing red circular marks traveling down his wrists.

"Where did you get those marks?" said Hermione.

"What marks?"

"The ones on your wrist," Hermione pushed his sleeve up to reveal more marks. "Those."

Neville looked at her oddly. "Um, there's nothing there."

"What do you mean? I'm looking right at them!"

Harry pushed up the sleeve on Neville's other arm and revealed even more marks. "You don't see these?"

"See what? Alright, stop it! You're all just trying to scare me, and it's not funny."

"What's going on?" shouted Madame Pomfrey as she bustled into view. "Off with you! I won't have my patients upset! Go!" She turned her attention to Neville. "It's time for your salve Mr. Longbottom."

"I don't know what for. There's nothing there."

Madame Pomfrey let out an irritated sigh, but said nothing.

##

"There's no way he couldn't see those marks," said Ron as soon as they were out of the hospital wing.

"But why would he lie?" said Harry. "It's not like Neville."

"I don't think he was lying," said Hermione. "He said the same thing to Madame Pomfrey. Judging by her reaction, she appears to be fed up arguing with him."


	5. Chapter 5

The four boys went to bed immediately after dinner. All were looking forward to a good rest. They were feeling less jittery since their long naps earlier in the day. They climbed into bed, and after a little stretching and turning, they each fell into a deep sleep. Seamus' and Dean's beds were still pushed together. A little more than an hour later, Seamus woke up screaming. Ron bounced out of bed with a pillow in his hand intent on smothering Seamus.

"I saw it again!" cried Dean. "It was sitting on his chest!"

"Saw what?" Ron shouted back.

"That thing! That creature!"

Again the boys searched the room, and again they found nothing.

"We're not getting anywhere this way," said Harry. "I think we should take shifts. Ron and I will take the first one. We'll wake you two up in four hours."

Seamus and Dean settled into their beds with their backs as close to each other as they could get. It took them about twenty minutes to fall asleep. Harry and Ron were sitting up in their beds, wands in hand, waiting until the other two were sound asleep. Harry cleared his throat. Seamus and Dean didn't stir. He then threw his wand, and it clattered onto the middle of the floor. The two boys didn't even twitch.

"What are you doing?" whispered Ron.

"Accio wand. I was making sure they were asleep. I think we can talk now."

"I don't like the idea of that doll-man thing--" began Ron.

"Snape-doll."

"-running around and trying to kill us while we sleep."

"I don't think it is," said Harry.

"Dean saw it twice, not counting the nightmare."

"I don't think he did."

"But he described it perfectly," said Ron. "How do you explain that?"

"Neville must've shown the Snape-doll to him, or described it. And Dean's description wasn't entirely accurate. According to him, it was much bigger than the doll we saw."

"You're right," agreed Ron. "So what do you think is going on?"

"Just what I said before, I think it's nervous exhaustion. If there really is anything here, you and I will see it."

Four hours came and went without incident. Harry and Ron woke up Seamus and Dean and settled in to get some rest. They had barely dropped off when the two boys started shouting.

"There! There it is!" shouted Dean.

"Stupefy!" hollered Seamus, and Harry had to duck to avoid the jet of red light flying toward him.

"Stop! Stop firing!" yelled Harry.

"What is going on in there?" yelled a voice from the other side of the door. Dean, who was closest to it, got up and opened the door. A sixth year student named Martin Lowery entered the room. "If you guys don't stop making such a racket, I'm going to Professor McGonagall!"

"We're sorry, Martin," said Dean. "We didn't realize we were so loud. It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't!" Martin stomped out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

"Git," said Ron.

"I don't blame him," said Harry.

"Have you two gone mental?" said Ron. "And what's with you shooting your wand off at Harry?"

"I wasn't shooting at Harry," replied Seamus. "I was trying to get that thing."

"There is no thing," said Ron.

"There is!" argued Dean. "I've seen it three times already."

"You were dreaming, Dean," said Harry.

"I was not dreaming! I saw it!" shouted Dean.

"Shh," warned Seamus. "Not so loud."

"Harry and I sat up for four hours and didn't see anything."

"I know what I saw," stated Dean.

"I've had enough of this," said Harry, rising from his bed. "I'm sleeping in the common room."

The four boys gathered pillows and blankets and spent the rest of the night sleeping in the common room. They slept fitfully. They were awoken by Ginny.

"What are you all doing here? Come on, you'll miss breakfast."

They rose and dressed, except for Seamus, who chose to wear his dressing gown and bedroom slippers to the breakfast table. He didn't even stop to comb his hair. He had such an overpowering thirst that he practically sprinted to the Great Hall. He drank six cups of tea and a pitcher of pumpkin juice.

They passed the day lazily napping on the lawn and lounging in the common room. They each, in turn, visited Neville, who was looking quite healthy and anxious to get out of the hospital wing. The boys dreaded the approach of evening. They elected to sleep in the common room again. They waited for the last stragglers to go to bed, and went up to their dorm to fetch pillows and blankets. They had just settled in for a good sleep when the stern voice of Minerva McGonagall rang in their ears.

"What do you four think you're doing? Camping out in front of the fire every night, is that why you all look so tired?"

"We're not tired, Professor," said Ron.

"Off to bed with you! And don't let me catch you sleeping here again!"

The boys trudged up to their dorm room in single file, looking very much like a death march. They took the precaution of sound-proofing the room before attempting to go to sleep. They each checked under their beds and under their blankets before slipping nervously between their sheets.

"Can we leave the lamps lit?" asked Dean.

"Fine by me," growled Harry.

Nerves made sleep come slowly, but eventually they all fell asleep. They were in bed a little more than two hours when Seamus woke them up.

"What is it?" snapped Harry without raising his head off the pillow.

"I had that dream again," said Seamus a little bashfully.

A chorus of aggravated groans came from the other three boys. No one rose out of bed. Again they fell asleep; this time for less than an hour. It was Dean's turn to wake them up.

"Just that nightmare, guys," said Dean, although no one had asked him anything, or had checked to see if he was okay.

A few hours passed before they all fell asleep for a third time. This time it was Harry who woke everyone up. He wasn't screaming, just kicking and mumbling. He was awakened by Ron's shoe smashing into his face.

"What the hell did you do that for?" shouted Harry as he tossed Ron's shoe back to him.

Ron looked almost mesmerized. "I saw it," he said quietly.

"Saw what?" snapped Harry.

"The Snape-man, he was sitting on your chest."

"I told you! I told you!" shouted Dean excitedly.

"Oh, come on!" screamed Harry. "There is no one in this room but us!"

"I saw it, Harry," said Ron quietly, "and I wasn't dreaming. I was awake."

Harry didn't respond to Ron. He sat in his bed rubbing his temples for a few moments before speaking again. This time his voice was calmer. "I just had Neville's nightmare." He looked over at Seamus and Dean. "Thanks for sharing, guys."

"Don't blame us," yelled Dean.

"Go to hell!" hollered Seamus.

Harry threw his blankets back in a temper and attempted to rise. Ron pushed him back down. "It's not worth fighting over...what's that?

"What?"

"You've got a spot of blood on your pillow."

"Your shoe cut my lip." The spot on Harry's pillow was on his left side. His lip was cut on the right side. Ron was too exhausted to work those details out.

"Sorry, I was aiming for the Snape-man."

"Not you too," said Harry. He tried to stay calm. "For the last time, there is no Snape-doll."

"I didn't say anything about a doll," said Ron curtly. "That thing was way too big to be a doll. It was almost as big as you, Harry."

"Whatever," said Harry. "Let's just go back to sleep."

Ron pushed his bed against Harry's. He sat awake for some time clutching his wand to his chest. The other three dozed uneasily. At some point, Ron must've fallen asleep because he woke up to Harry hitting him with his pillow.

"Wake up, Ron!"

"What?"

"You were screaming," said Harry, tucking his pillow back under his head.

"Did you have the dream?" asked Seamus.

"Yeah, it was horrible."

Harry grunted and rolled over with his pillow wrapped around his head and forced himself to go back to sleep. The next round of screams came from Harry. He woke to shouting and the feeling of his mattress being pushed down. He opened his eyes and sat up quickly. He was drenched in sweat and rubbing his chest. His eyes were wide with fear.

"We saw it," said Seamus.

"It was on your chest," said Dean.

Both boys had sprinted from their beds and jumped onto Harry's. Ron was standing on his bed, wand drawn, and scanning the room for movement.

"I was wrong," said Harry.

"About what," said Ron.

"That wasn't Neville's dream that I had earlier, or at least not all of it. You must've woken me up in the middle. I just had the full one and it was horrible. And Snape definitely wasn't trying to snog me!" He was still rubbing his chest.

"Are you hurt?" asked Ron.

"No," replied Harry. "It's just bruised. It feels like Hagrid stood on me."

"Do you believe us now?" said Dean.

"Yeah...yeah I believe you."

"So here's the burning question," said Seamus. "What is going on, and how do we stop it?"

"It's got to be Snape," said Harry. "He must be cursing us."

"We should go to Dumbledore," said Dean.

"Dumbledore trusts Snape," said Harry. "It would be a waste of time."

"Are you sure?" said Seamus.

"Trust me," replied Harry. "I know."

"It can't hurt to try," insisted Seamus.

"Yes, it can," argued Harry. "If Dumbledore thinks we're wrong, there's a good chance he'll talk to Snape. If Snape finds out that we know what he's up to, he'll take more drastic measures."

"I know he's a bastard and all," said Dean, "but he's been a teacher here for years. Why would he start killing students now?"

"Because he's got it in for Harry," explained Ron as he sat down on his bed. "Harry's a special case with Snape.

"So why is he attacking us?" asked Dean.

"We're Harry's roommates; his closest friends. We'd be potential witnesses, and he'd probably take Neville out just for the fun of it."

The scenario seemed perfectly plausible to their foggy exhausted minds. After all, it was Snape they were all dreaming about, and he was a hateful git. What other explanation could there be?


	6. Chapter 6

The four boys arrived early for breakfast the next morning. They were parched and were tapping the table, impatiently waiting for the pumpkin juice to arrive. Each drank huge amounts of juice and tea.

"What is going on with them?" said Ginny to Hermione. "They look dreadful."

"I don't know." Hermione was partly pensive, and partly angry. She knew Harry and Ron were keeping vital information from her, and she didn't like the secrecy. She was also very worried that they were all beginning to look like Neville. Try as she might, she could get no more information out of them, except for a reiteration of their paranoia about the nightmares.

The four grew even more secretive as the week wore on. They were constantly huddled together in hushed conversation. They took naps whenever and wherever they could. They were growing paler by the day, and McGonagall was eyeing them warily. They finally decided it was time to ask Hermione for help.

Hermione sat next to Ginny in front of the unlit fireplace in the common room. March's unseasonably warm weather had turned into a heat wave. The windows in the common room were open to bring in the light warm breeze. Ginny was reading a magazine and Hermione was studying some ancient textbook. The four boys took seats around her.

"So, Hermione," began Ron, "what are you doing?" Ginny snorted from behind her magazine.

"What does it look like I'm doing, Ron?"

"Right," laughed Ron, "I see. Um, so do you know anything about girl stuff?"

"You perv!" blurted Ginny.

"I refuse to explain sex to you, Ronald! Go ask a man, or read a book!"

"That was very subtle, Ron," said Harry. "That's not what he was trying to say, Hermione. Um, I'm sure you've noticed how tired we all look."

"Of course," said Hermione, closing her book. "I've asked you about it numerous times."

"Well, we think McGonagall's been noticing too, and we want to ask you to help us cover it up."

"Are you asking for make-up tips?" laughed Ginny. The boys' expressions remained serious, and Ginny stopped laughing. "Just go to Madame Pomfrey."

"We did," said Seamus. "She said we're fine."

"I think Professor McGonagall will see through a glamour charm, Harry."

"Please, Hermione," said Harry in the most pathetic voice he could manage.

"Alright! But I don't like it."

"We'll need to go somewhere private," said Dean.

"We can use my corner in the library. No one's ever there but me."

"I'll fetch some more magazines," said Ginny.

Ginny was the last to arrive in the library. She had a huge stack of magazines in her arms. They each took one and opened it to the first charm they could find.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," said Hermione. Harry was her first test subject. She waved her wand, recited the charm, and stood back in dismay. The other boys began laughing. They couldn't decide which was funnier, Harry's bouffant hair or the ruby red lipstick and rouge.

"I'll try a different charm," said Hermione. She studied a different magazine and, this time, waved her wand over Ron. His hair grew to a long red ponytail. His eyelashes lengthened. Glittery blue make-up spread out from around his eyes like wings. The dark, glittering, blue lipstick was the crowning touch.

"Scrap that one, Ginny," said Hermione. "On to the third." Dean was her next victim. His hair slicked down, and gold glitter spread over his lengthened eyelashes. He wore orange and gold eye-shadow and rouge. His lips were deep orange. "And another failure," said Hermione. Ginny handed her another magazine.

"You're up, Seamus." Hermione waved her wand again. Seamus' hair rose up like a great crested wave; emerald-green glitter twinkled from it. The same glittery green spread up his cheeks and painted his lips and eyes.

"That's the worst one yet," said Ginny. "Oh dear!" Ginny's eyes looked behind the boys. They turned to see Martin Lowery, books in hand, standing with is mouth agape. No one said a word. Martin quickly put his books away, raised his hands palms forward, and backed away.

"We can trust Martin. He won't say anything," said Hermione.

"I've got it!" shouted Ginny. She folded the magazine and read from it. "The witch-next-door look. Best used for casual daywear." She laid the magazine out in front of Hermione.

"Back to you, Harry." Hermione waved her wand and recited the charm. "That's not too bad."

"Harry's hair is too neat though," said Ginny. "And his lips are a touch too red."

"Let me see if I can modify the charm," said Hermione. She pulled a scrap of parchment and a quill out of her bag and began to scribble. She crossed out a few lines and rewrote them several times, the boys grew increasingly impatient. She set down her quill and raised her wand again. "Once more, Harry."

"That's perfect," said Ginny. "He looks great."

"You're a genius, Hermione!" said Ron.

Ginny passed around a small mirror when Hermione was done. The boys all looked vibrantly healthy like they'd just stepped off the Quidditch pitch.

They exited the library just as Snape was stalking past. He appeared to be deep in thought. He stopped suddenly, his eyes wide. "Stop," his silky voice gave them chills. His eyes glittered menacingly as they passed over the boys' faces. "My how pretty you lads look today; all rosy-cheeked and pouty-lipped," said Snape. He looked like he was struggling not to laugh. The four boys and Ginny glared at him hatefully. Hermione nervously dropped her eyes. "Interesting reading material Potter, is that what you've been using for your Potions research?"

Harry was raging and was about to say something very stupid and very rude. The approach of Professor McGonagall stayed his tongue.

"Is there a problem, Severus?"

"Not at all, Professor," replied Snape with the ugliest smile Harry had ever seen on a human being, including Dudley. "I was just admiring your Gryffindors' healthy glow."

McGonagall frowned a little as her eyes moved from one face to the next. She rolled her eyes and in a weary voice said, "Away with you. Go find something constructive to do."

"Try not to make the other ladies too jealous," said Snape as they walked away.

"That's quite enough, Severus," said McGonagall, rolling her eyes for the second time.

A close call indeed, they went back to the safety of the Gryffindor common room. The boys sat in front of the fireplace looking quite pleased with themselves. Seamus leaned forward and lit it.

"What are you doing, Finnigan?" shouted a seventh-year boy.

"I'm cold," replied Seamus.

"It's eighty degrees outside." The boy flicked his wand and put the fire out. "Don't light it again."

"Git," whispered Ron as the boy walked back to his friends.

"Are you sure that Neville gave that doll to Hagrid?" said Hermione.

"What doll?" said Harry.

"The one you and Ron told me about."

Ron looked at Harry. "We didn't say anything about a doll," said Ron.

"You most certainly did! Harry even named it after Snape!" shouted Hermione.

"Snape's got a doll?" said Ginny.

"Alright, alright!" said Ron. "Maybe we did, and we forgot about it. What difference does it make?"

"I told you, I think that thing could be infectious. Except for the marks, you're all looking and behaving very much like Neville did."

"How many times do I have to say it?" said Seamus. "Madame Pomfrey said we're fine."

"Neville probably caught something from those Snape-moths," said Harry.

"The what?" said Ginny. Hermione folded her arms in disgust.

"Those big ugly moths that are all over the water garden Neville planted last year," explained Harry.

"Do you mean the butterflies? I think their quite pretty."

Harry looked affronted. "They're hideous, Ginny!"

"You know, Harry, you have a bad habit of naming ugly things after Snape."

"Don't, Ginny," said Ron. "Just don't."

"It's so obvious!" said Harry heatedly. "Snape's all black with pale yellowish skin. The moths are black with pale yellow spots. I can't be the only one to see the resemblance."

"It's totally obvious," said Ron. "Now that you've pointed it out, I mean."

"The list just keeps getting bigger," said Ginny. "Snape's got his own flower, he may or may not have a doll, and now he has moths."

"Hi, guys," came the cheery voice of Neville Longbottom.

"Neville!" Ginny and Hermione stood to hug him. "How are you feeling?"

"Great, I feel great. So how is everyone?"

The boys greeted him with all the excitement they could muster, which wasn't very much.

"Don't fall over each other to get to him," said Ginny.

"It's okay," said Neville. "They lost a lot of sleep because of me."

"That wasn't your fault, Neville," said Hermione.

"Easy for you to say," said Ron.

Hermione had enough. She picked up her ragged old textbook and bag and stomped away. "I've got studying to do!"

"Nice one, Ron," said Harry.

"It's not my fault she's moody."


	7. Chapter 7

Hermione made a showy exit, but she had no intentions of returning to the library...yet. She'd been mulling the events over in her mind, and was torn between keeping her promise and her concern for the boys and their declining health. She went to see Hagrid.

She trundled down the lawns, heavy book-bag over her shoulder, toward Hagrid's hut, hoping all the while that no one would see her and tell the boys. Hagrid was tending his garden and saw her as she approached.

"'ermione!" said Hagrid, smiling warmly. "Weren' expectin' yeh." He stood upright and leaned on his hoe. "Yeh look a bit outta breath. Did yeh run all the way?"

"Hello, Hagrid, I'm sorry to just barge in...."

"No need fer apologies. I like the comp'ny."

Hagrid leaned the hoe on the wall of his hut and ushered Hermione inside. He made tea. "What's upsettin' yeh, 'ermione? Yeh look worried."

"Does it show that much? I'm worried about the boys."

"What have those two bin up teh?"

"Not just them, Hagrid. It's Seamus, Neville, and Dean too. They're looking quite pale these days."

"They've not got them parasites, 'ave they? Ooops, shouldn' o' said that. Professor McGonagall asked me not teh."

"Parasites?" repeated Hermione, looking horrified. "That's what Madame Pomfrey diagnosed Neville with?"

"Don' ask me nuthin' else about that. Gotta keep meh word."

Hermione shuddered. "There's something else I wanted to ask you about. Ron and Harry said that Neville found a child's doll in Hogsmeade. They said Neville gave you the doll hoping you could find the owner."

"Nope, didn' gi' me no doll. I'll bet there's some poor little 'un cryin' 'er eyes out fer it though--heartbreakin'," said Hagrid as he blew his nose into his giant hankie.

Hermione now had something more to ponder. First the boys claimed that Neville found a doll. Then they claimed to not remember any such thing. They said Neville gave Hagrid the doll. Hagrid claims not to have received any dolls. Hermione desperately wanted to go to Professor McGonagall for advice, but she had no proof of anything as she had not personally seen the mysterious doll. The boys could easily refute her claims, leaving McGonagall with no reason to pursue further inquiry. She wasn't willing to break her promise regarding the nightmares. If Snape found out about them, his wrath would be immeasurable, and Neville would be laughing stock...well, he'd be a much bigger one.

##

"Neville?" said Harry. "Would you mind coming upstairs so we can talk in private?"

"Sure, Harry."

The five boys retired to their dorm room. Neville noticed immediately that the beds had been moved. "It's chilly in here. What's going on with the beds?"

"We've all been having your nightmare," said Seamus.

"What? How can we all have the same nightmare?"

"I suggest you push your bed next to mine," said Harry. "For safety."

"You're scaring me, Harry."

"What I'm going to say next is going to scare you more."

They each, starting with Harry, described in great detail what they had experienced. The good color Neville had when he entered the common room rapidly fled from his face. The chill in the room deepened and seemed to reach his bones.

"I have to ask you, Neville, did you have the dream while in the hospital wing?"

"No, Harry, not once."

"Good, that confirms my suspicions," said Harry.

Neville looked at each face in the room in turn. He was afraid to ask for an explanation, but it was forthcoming anyway.

"I think Snape has cursed us. The curse seems to be centered on this room, so we're all in danger. But I think I'm his true target. He's trying to kill me, and he's willing to take out the rest of you too."

"Cursed us," whispered Neville, as if saying it would make his mind accept the fact. "But why, Harry? Why would Snape try to kill us? He's never murdered any students before. Why start now?"

"Do we really know that, Neville?" replied Harry. "I mean, have any of us researched the deaths of any Hogwarts students during Snape's tenure?" All the boys exchanged glances, shaking their heads. "Exactly," continued Harry. "He could've killed a couple students a year for all we know."

"He'd be in Azkaban," said Neville.

"If he got caught," countered Harry. "Snape's a clever man; he wouldn't be that easy to catch. And that's our biggest problem right now. We can't figure out how to stop him."

"First we searched our Defense Against the Dark Arts textbooks," said Seamus.

"When we didn't find anything," continued Dean, "we realized that Snape wouldn't use something so obvious."

"Everyone knows he's steeped in the Dark Arts," said Ron. "So it would be something out of the ordinary that he'd use, something most people wouldn't notice."

"We figure the answer might be in the Library's Restricted Section," said Harry. "But we can't figure out a way to get in there."

"There's no way we could convince any of the teachers to give us passes," said Seamus.

"And we can't all fit under Harry's invisibility cloak," said Ron.

"And," added Dean, "It's not safe to split up. Our only hope is to stay together."

All this was too much for Neville's delicate sensibilities to process. He sat on Harry's trunk, frozen with fear. "What about Hermione? Could she do the research for us?"

"We thought of that," answered Harry, "but Hermione's been nagging us to go to a teacher. She'll be really suspicious if we ask her to do Dark Arts research for us. No, we can't risk her going to McGonagall."

"What about Dumbledore?" said Neville. "He'll help us."

"We need proof first," replied Harry. "Then we can go to him."


	8. Chapter 8

The boys prepared for the evening. Neville's bed was as tight against Harry's as he could manage. He slipped out of his clothes and put on his pajamas.

"You need more layers than that, Neville," said Seamus.

"If you think it's chilly now," said Dean, "just wait a couple of hours."

Neville turned around and looked at the other four. They were putting on several pairs of socks and multiple pairs of pajamas with sweaters over top. Neville copied his roommates, but still hoped it was all a ruse. He could handle an elaborate prank. He wouldn't like it, but it would be better than what he was preparing to face.

They all climbed into their beds like soldiers entering a foxhole. Each had his wand clutched in his hand. "We take shifts, Neville," explained Harry. "Dean and I go first. We've found it works better when there's a person on either side of the room who stays awake. Ron and Seamus will take the second watch. We can split into a third watch now that you're here."

"Just wake me, and I'll sit up with you," offered Dean.

Neville was too frightened to sleep. He lay awake listening to every tiny sound. Dean was right about the chill in the room. It was so cold that Neville could see his breath. He was sorry he hadn't thought to wear his earmuffs, but was both too frightened and too cold to get out of bed and fetch them. Hours went by as he lay shivering under his bedclothes.

"Right, Neville, your turn," said Ron as he yawned and rolled over. He pulled his blankets up until they obscured his head. Seamus elbowed Dean, who sat up in a sleepy daze, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

Neville sat up. He clutched his wand tightly in both hands. Dean's eyes kept shutting; and with time, his head would droop and then pop up again in a losing battle to stay awake. Neville, as frightened as he was, didn't attempt to rouse him. He felt guilty, despite the fact that Harry thought himself the primary target. After all, it was Neville who started having these night terrors. Clearly it was himself who allowed the curse to take hold. Surely it couldn't hurt to let Dean have a little more sleep.

Dean's head ceased to bobble; it lay drooped over his chest. His breathing slowed, and his wand had disappeared under his blankets. He'd have a sore neck when he awoke, but at least he'd get some much needed sleep. Neville began to feel a little more confident as morning wasn't very far off. Slowly Neville's eyelids began to droop, and the grip on his wand loosened. Moments later his eyes closed, and he fell into a deep sleep. The next thing he remembered was being roughly wakened by Harry.

"Wake up, Neville!"

"Sorry, Harry, I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"It's okay, we've all done it. You had the dream again, didn't you?"

"Yeah."

"Bastard!" grumbled Ron.

"I'm sorry, Ron."

"Not you, Neville. I meant Snape."

Neville's face was very pale and drawn. He had an overpowering thirst. Seamus dug a bottle of orange fizz out of his trunk and handed it to Neville. "We're all really thirsty for some reason. It must be part of the curse." The room had warmed up a little. It was morning, and they had to rise for class. Neville downed the entire bottle of orange fizz in a couple of gulps. He, like the rest, rose in a daze and dressed.

"We'll have to do something about his face," said Dean.

"What's wrong with my face?" asked Neville in a panic.

"You look pale," answered Seamus. "We all do, but Hermione used a glamour charm on us so the teachers don't get suspicious."

"I don't think Hermione will do it again," said Harry. "She's a little annoyed with Ron at the moment."

"We can try my sister." Ron managed to catch Ginny just before she left the common room. "I need to ask a favor of you. Do you think you can cast that charm that Hermione used on us?"

"What for?" said Ginny. "It's still working...Neville, you look awful! You should go back to the hospital wing."

"Not a chance," answered Neville.

"Please, Ginny, we don't have time to explain, and I'm in no mood to miss breakfast."

"Okay, okay!" Ginny took out her wand and pointed it at Neville's face. He tightly closed his eyes. "It's not going hurt, Neville. Hey, what's that on your neck?" She moved the collar of Neville's sweater and counted six red puncture marks. "Ron look, he's got sores on his neck."

Ron leaned down to inspect, giving Ginny a good view of his own neck. "I don't see anything."

"You've got them too!"

"Don't be silly, Ginny." She held Ron's head so Harry could see his neck.

"There's nothing there, Ginny," said Harry.

"I don't believe this. Look, all of you look. They're right there."

"Don't see a thing," said Seamus.

"Me either," said Dean.

Neville shook his head. "I don't see anything either, Ginny. Sorry."

"Will you please let go of my head." Ron straightened up and rubbed his neck. "Hurry up, we can't miss breakfast."

Ginny flicked her wand and Neville instantly became the very image of good health and vigor.

"That's perfect, Ginny!" cried Ron. "Right, let's go lads."

They dashed out the door and sprinted to the Great Hall. "You're welcome, guys," said Ginny to no one.

There was a tussle when they reached the Gryffindor table. They all reached for the pitchers of juice at the same time and no one was willing to release his grip.

"It would be much easier if you would all let go and let one do the pouring," said Hermione snottily. Ginny arrived and sat down across from her. She pointed silently in the boys' direction. Hermione answered her by shrugging her shoulders.

The boys realized they were drawing attention to themselves and let go. Seamus and Dean were elected to pour the drinks. As Hermione and Ginny saw it, the boys seemed to be having a contest to see who could drink the fastest. Hermione was the first to leave the table; the boys were the last. The boys stopped between classes for drinks of water, and resumed their drinking contest at each meal.


	9. Chapter 9

The boys huddled around the lit fireplace and whispered. The warm weather had drawn most of the students outside, so the common room was virtually deserted.

"Right," began Harry. "We need to go over this one more time." The boys grumbled in response.

"We've been over it dozens of times, and we're no further ahead," said Seamus.

"I know," answered Harry. "We're all tired, I know that, but surely the five of us together can outsmart one Greasy Git." Harry began to pace in front of the fire. He was spurred on by motivated paranoia, which was growing to the point where it had become visible to other students. Ginny and Hermione were keenly aware of the rumors that were starting to be bandied about regarding Harry's mental health. "These are the things that we know for sure. One; the curse is located in our dorm room."

"How do we know for sure?" said Dean. "If you're the primary target, you could be the source of the curse."

"Harry and I fell asleep on the lawn and didn't have any dreams."

"Oh, right," said Dean with a yawn. "You said that. I forgot."

"That's okay," said Harry. "That's good, you're still thinking, that's good. Now where was I? One; the curse is in our dorm. Two; it only affects us in our sleep."

"Not in our sleep," said Ron.

"What?"

"Not in our sleep, Harry; in our dreams."

"That's right, Ron! It attacks us through our dreams."

"So how does that help us?" said Neville. "We can't stop dreaming."

"Yes we can," said Ron. All eyes turned to him. "We'll get Hermione to brew Dreamless Sleep Potions for us.

"That's brilliant, Ron!" shouted Harry.

##

Hermione was the sole occupant of a small table that sat at the far end of the common room. There were several books stacked in front of her. Two of them sat open, and she was presently scribbling notes from them onto a large length of parchment. The table jostled, and Hermione looked up to see five charmed faces smiling dumbly at her.

"What have you done now?"

"We haven't done anything," answered Neville.

"We need to ask a favor of you," said Harry.

"I'm not doing your homework for you." Hermione resumed scribbling.

"We want you to make Dreamless Sleep for us," said Ron.

Hermione didn't look up. "Why don't you ask Madame Pomfrey for some?"

"We can't risk her finding out," replied Harry.

"Why don't you just lie to her? You're all very good at it...except Neville. No offence intended, Neville."

"None taken."

"She'll be suspicious if all five of us ask her," said Seamus.

Hermione didn't respond. She turned a page in both of her textbooks and kept scribbling.

"Please help us, Hermione," said Neville.

"Oh, alright! But if Snape catches me stealing from his supplies, I'm blaming all of you."

"You won't need to steal from him," said Harry. "There's an herbalist in Hogsmeade."

"We can't afford that!" said Dean.

"It's alright, Dean. I can cover the expense," said Harry

"We'll all put toward it," said Ron. "Whatever we've got."

"There is one problem," said Hermione. "The herbalist probably knows Snape."

"So what?" said Ron.

"So, she's an old gossip and she might tell Snape what I've bought." Hermione looked around the table at five blank faces. "Meaning, buying enough supplies for five people might look a little suspicious."

"Tell her you're tutoring us in Potions because we're really bad at it."

"That's very plausible," said Hermione with a proud smile. "Well done, Ron!"

"It happens from time to time."

"Great!" said Harry. "Now all we have to do is stick it out until Saturday."

##

The boys waited impatiently outside Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. They were initially in the room with Hermione, but their relentless fussing and hovering annoyed her, and she kicked them out. Harry and Neville paced agitatedly, while the others napped restlessly. They prayed that neither Snape nor Filch would show up and ruin the only plan they had.

Hermione emerged after an eternity, proclaiming her work was complete. The boys were elated beyond words. Finally they had a weapon to use against that creeping dungeon bat. If the potion worked as they all hoped, they would regain their strength, redouble their efforts, and find a way to stop the Greasy Git for good.

The boys helped Hermione clean up and gingerly took up their precious cargo. They each hid a goblet of potion under their shirts and raced back to their dorm room. They reluctantly parted with their miracle anti-Git weapon just long enough to make an appearance at dinner.

They chose to go to bed immediately after leaving the Great Hall and returned to their dorm. Neville had the foresight to not only wear his earmuffs, but he also took the precaution of wearing his coat to bed. They all sat in their beds, goblets in hand, confident that they could best the Greasy Git. In unison, they tipped their goblets back and lay down for a good night's rest. As it happens, the one thing they thought would shield them from attack was the worst possible thing they could've done.

Neville walked the corridors of Hogwarts' Dungeons. There was no carpeting on the floor and nothing hanging on the stone walls. Neville felt ill-at-ease. His eyes told him he was walking about the dungeons, but there was such an unfamiliar feel to the place. It was very cold, much colder than usual, and a different sort of cold; it felt unnatural. There was no other explanation. Neville's feet carried him forward by their own will. He heard a soft crying-moan somewhere in the distance, and it was the first time that he realized there were no other sounds but his own breathing and that distant crying.

He quickened his pace. He felt himself being turned sharply around a corner and put his hand out for fear of hitting the wall. It felt slimy and cold. Neville tried to wipe the slime from his hand onto his coat, but it clung stubbornly. The crying became louder, and Neville grew more concerned. Who could this poor suffering soul be? Perhaps it was Peeves playing a trick. That would explain why no one else was bothered by the sound.

A few more turns brought him to the source of the crying. Is it? It couldn't be. Professor Snape, in a very messy-looking nightshirt, was leaning against the wall...and crying. Neville couldn't believe his eyes or his ears. Snape was making the most piteous sound Neville ever heard.

"Professor?" called Neville softly.

Snape didn't answer. He stood, slightly slouched, clinging to the slimy cold wall. The back of his nightshirt was dirty, and the front was wet. He stood barefoot in a puddle that was letting off steam. He'd clearly been sick on himself.

Neville plucked up the courage to approach his volatile Potions Master. "Sir," he said as he gently laid a hand on Snape's bony shoulder. He felt unnaturally cold, but he wasn't shivering. Neville's nose was abruptly overwhelmed by a most revolting odor. He gagged a little and put his hand to his mouth. He had to get Snape to the hospital wing immediately.

"Come with me, sir, I'll take you to Madame Pomfrey. She'll get you feeling better." Neville spoke gently. His touch on Snape's shoulders was equally gentle as he turned the man to him and began walking. Snape's head and shoulders were turned down, and Neville couldn't see his face. He looked down so he didn't step on Snape, and was astonished to see that the man had such big feet. He said nothing, however, as that would've been a rude and insensitive thing to declare.

"Here we are, sir. You just sit down on this bed here, and I'll fetch Madame Pomfrey. Don't try to get up." Neville ran to Pomfrey's office calling for her, but she wasn't there. He checked her storeroom. There was no sign of her anywhere. Neville passed an un-shuttered window. The sky was moonless and starless. He returned to Snape, who was still sitting on the bed where Neville had put him. His back was to Neville, but he was now sitting upright instead of hunched over. Neville thought he was going to be sick again and ran to him.

Neville jumped at the sight of the horror watching him from the bed. That thing was most definitely not Snape. There were no whites to its black eyes, and it didn't blink. Its mouth was too wide and was full of misshapen teeth. Its skin was dry and ashen. Neville turned to flee, but hit a stone wall. He was no longer in the hospital wing, nor was he looking at the familiar stone walls of the dungeons. The walls surrounding him were black, slimy, and cold. There were no windows or doors, and no one to answer his cries.

The potion Hermione brewed was top-notch. It prevented the boys' natural dream cycle and, in essence, prevented their subconscious minds from being able to recognize danger. The boys were unable to rise from a naturally occurring nightmare. Their minds and bodies lay helpless and prone to the whims of the abhorrent creature that was feeding on them.


	10. Chapter 10

"Ginny?" called Hermione. "Have you seen the boys?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing."

"We're going to be late for class." Hermione bit her lip and looked to see if any boys were still lingering. She saw Martin Lowery as he ran for the door. "Martin! Can you help us?"

"Can't, Hermione, I'm going to be late, and I've got Snape for my first class."

"It will only take a moment, I promise."

"Alright, make it quick."

"Will you go upstairs and wake the boys?" Martin dropped his bag, and dashed up the stairs taking three at a time.

"Did you see those marks on their necks?" said Ginny.

Hermione whirled around to face Ginny. "What marks?"

"Neville and Ron have red sores on their necks. I showed them to the others, but they swore they couldn't see them. I was so angry, I wanted to punch them. They were being deliberately obtuse."

Hermione dropped her bag and grabbed Ginny's arm. "Come with me!"

##

Martin banged loudly on the boys' door and shouted, "Get up, classes have started!" He had no intentions of waiting for a response, but the coldness of the door made him curious. He temporarily forgot about Snape. He grabbed the doorknob. It was so cold that his hand stuck to it. He instinctively pulled his hand away, tearing skin away from his fingers and palm. He drew his wand, pulled his sleeve over his injured hand, and opened the door. It slowly swung open. The room was silent as Martin entered. He slyly peeked around the door, but neither saw nor heard any movement. It was so frigid that Martin could see his breath. There was an unnatural feeling in the room that made Martin very frightened. He felt as though he was being watched. He reached over to Dean and touched his face. He quickly withdrew his hand. He'd never felt anyone that cold before. Slowly he began to back his way out of the room, and jumped when he bumped into something.

"Out of the road, Mr. Lowery!" hollered McGonagall. She stopped in the middle of the room with her wand drawn. "Don't touch anything."

"Too late, Professor." Martin held up his bleeding hand.

"Mr. Lowery, go get Madame Pomfrey, and if you see any teachers on the way, bring them with you too. Girls, go downstairs and don't let any students up here."

"What about you, Professor?" asked Hermione.

"Well, I'm staying here, of course." She put her wand to her throat. Her voice echoed through the school as she spoke. "Headmaster Dumbledore, please come to Gryffindor Tower. This is an emergency."

Dumbledore arrived before anyone else. The unnatural coldness in the room seemed to creep away from him. The room warmed quickly. He checked each of the boys. They were still alive, but in a very deep sleep.

"Parasites are not the cause of this, Albus."

"No, indeed, Minerva." Dumbledore walked about the room holding his hands above each boy. He didn't draw his wand. He stopped at Neville's bed and frowned. Professors Sprout and Flitwick entered the room, followed seconds later by Madame Pomfrey. "Minerva and I will help you move the boys, Poppy. Pomona and Filius, there is a cursed object somewhere in this room. I need you to search for it. Be careful, it is dangerous, and it could be anything at all."

##

Once ensconced in the warm beds of the hospital wing, Madame Pomfrey unbundled the boys from their multitude of clothing layers, and put them all in fresh pajamas. She put their clothes in a cupboard near the door. She first fed them Blood Replenishers. When their vital signs were stronger, she gave them Pepper-Up Potions to rouse them. Finally, she gave them each an anti-parasitic as a precaution. Dumbledore ordered classes to be canceled, to the delight of the students.

"It's the same pattern, Albus," said Poppy. "They're severely anemic and have groups of puncture marks on their necks, wrists, and ankles. I should like an anti-parasitic to be administered to the entire student body, just as precaution."

"An excellent idea, Poppy."

"But, Albus," began McGonagall, "I thought we agreed that parasites are not the cause of the boys' illness."

"Not the cause, Minerva, but a potential effect. Parasites would be an excellent way to spread this...contagion. It's best to err on the side of caution. I'll talk with the boys later. For now, if anyone needs me, I'll be in the Potions lab helping Severus."

##

Dumbledore sat at a long table cutting, smashing, and slicing a mountain of Potion's ingredients. Snape stood stirring the contents of his four largest cauldrons.

"Any thoughts on our current predicament, Severus?"

"I do not believe we're dealing with an outbreak of parasites, if that's what you're asking."

"Yet you're busily brewing gallons of anti-parasitic."

"It never hurts to be cautious."

"Surely not," agreed Dumbledore.

Snape was silent for a moment as he counted his stirs. He removed the ladles and let the cauldrons simmer. "I believe we're dealing with some very Dark Magic."

"I agree." Dumbledore set down his knife and proclaimed, "There we are, Severus. All finished." Snape picked up the bowls, one at a time, and began adding more ingredients. Dumbledore waited for Severus to step away from the cauldrons before continuing. "We shall need to devise a plan, just you and I, to rid ourselves of this menace. The children should not be told...."


	11. Chapter 11

The boys were sitting up in bed. They had finished eating their dinner hours ago. They were ecstatic to be out of their dorm room, but still unwilling to admit to having nightmares. Pomfrey had quarantined them from the other students, so they were feeling a bit lonely without visitors. Dumbledore had decided that the boys should have company through the night, and he took the first watch. He sat at a table with a magazine, a pot of tea, and a tin of biscuits. He dunked his biscuit into his tea cup, plopped it in his mouth, and set down his magazine.

"Is there anything you boys think you should tell me?"

"No, sir," said Harry a bit too quickly. The others followed his cue.

Dumbledore's eyes sparkled brightly as they moved from one set of eyes to the next. His eyes flitted over to the clothing cupboard for a second and settled back on his magazine. He conjured a quill and began to write. "Anyone know a three-letter word for falsehood?" He didn't wait as he answered his own question. "Oh, it's 'fib', how silly of me."

Madame Pomfrey bustled in floating a tray full of potions. "Those aren't sleeping potions, are they?" said Neville nervously.

"No, Mr. Longbottom. You'll be getting a Draught of Peace and that's it." Pomfrey waved her wand and a single goblet floated to each recipient. "Drink all of it, Mr. Potter." The empty goblets returned to their tray, and Madame Pomfrey bade everyone goodnight.

"Well then," said Dumbledore, "off to sleep everyone. Pleasant dreams."

The boys happily settled down into their beds. They knew nothing would or could harm them as long as Dumbledore was there. Sleep came quickly.

Professor Sprout stayed with them the second evening. She sat in a large, yellow, squishy armchair knitting a scarf. She fell asleep after a few hours and snored loudly.

The third night the boys had Professor Flitwick as a companion. He brought a book with him, which he kept dropping. He periodically rose from his chair to stretch and pace the floor, and repeatedly tripped over the ends of the boys' beds. "Oops...sorry, Weasley, that was just me. Go back to sleep."

Professor McGonagall had the fourth night. She sat in a conjured burgundy armchair with her feet up, and a tartan blanket over her legs. A cup of tea sat steaming next to her. She was a blessedly silent companion and the boys had a good night's sleep.

The fifth night brought Professor Snape's unwelcome person. He was the only one of the professors that didn't wear nightclothes, nor did he sit. He silently paced the floor with his arms crossed, and his wand resting against the opposite shoulder of his wand hand. The room was dark except for the moonlight that seeped into the room through the cracks in the shutters. The boys were determined not to go to sleep, and wished Dumbledore hadn't left them alone with this murderous monster.

Harry rolled over to face Ron and whispered something to him. "Go to sleep, Potter."

"No," said Harry defiantly and sat up in bed. The other four did the same. "I'm on to you, Snape. I know what you've been up to."

"Harry!"

"I'm not going to pretend anymore, Ron. He's going to face me while I'm awake and can fight back." Harry reached for his wand on the night table, but it wasn't there. Dumbledore had removed them on the first evening and none of the boys had noticed.

"Harry, will you shut up and look?"

Harry, in his temper, hadn't realized how cold the room had become until he saw Ron's breath. Snape appeared strangely calm. His arms were still crossed over his chest.

"Professor, look behind you," said Seamus.

"Quiet," said Snape.

"But, sir!"

Snape flicked his wand and all five beds slid to the far end of the room, well away from the exit. The boys sprang out of bed and huddled in a corner.

"What's he doing?" said Dean.

"Looks like he's reciting something," answered Ron.

Snape was still facing the boys. He was speaking softly in a calm yet insistent tone. The creature had appeared behind him. It was half-obscured in shadow. Now that the two stood together, it was clear that the only resemblance between it and Snape was that they were both thin with long black hair. Snape, as ugly as Harry thought he was, was still very much human. The thing that stood behind him was not. Its body was skeletal, and its limbs were disproportionately long. It had huge hands and feet, all of which ended in talon-like claws. Its head came roughly to the top of Snape's ear.

The creature took a step and Snape whirled around it, a flurry of black, and met it with his eyes cast to the floor. He stood defiantly between it and the boys. He spoke more loudly, and in a more commanding tone.

"Ego expello vos, atrum phasmatis." (I banish thee, dark spirit.)

Snape ceased to move, but continued chanting, "Ego expello vos, ego expello vos...."

The creature became enraged and began to howl as if it were in pain.

"I think he's trying to get rid of it," said Neville.

"Why doesn't he use his wand?" said Harry.

The creature took another step toward him, but Snape didn't retreat. His chanting continued. The creature screamed in temper, and a deep evil-sounding growl seemed to erupt from every corner of the room. Snape remained undeterred. The creature raised its hands as if to push at Snape. His hair and robes blew back. His head jerked backwards from the force of the invisible strike, but he remained unwavering. The boys could feel no breeze and the bedclothes didn't flutter.

The creature spoke in a language the boys had never heard. Snape ignored it. A revolting odor met their noses, which made them gag. Snape coughed, but continued to chant. The growling was now mixed with an unholy maniacal laughter. The creature pushed its hands again, and Snape began to slide backwards. He was struggling hard against the invisible force and rapidly losing ground. He was pushed back several feet before regaining his footing. He leaned forward, his eyes still averted away from the creature's, and raised his free hand as if pushing back against something. The veins in his temples bulged and the muscles in his neck were taught with exertion. Still, he chanted. The creature swatted its hand at him and slashed his face.


	12. Chapter 12

Madame Pomfrey came running from her quarters with her wand drawn. She ran to Snape's side, but he pushed her back and was nearly knocked off his feet. He stopped chanting to speak to her. Yelling over the thunderous sound of rushing wind in his ears he said, "Only use your wand to deflect debris! Don't look in its eyes and keep the boys back!"

Pomfrey ran to the boys, trying to block their view. The creature had stepped closer while Snape was speaking, and Seamus and Dean had looked in its eyes. They were mesmerized and began to walk toward it. Ron and Neville tried to help Madame Pomfrey hold them back. Their strength was extraordinary.

Snape resumed chanting. The creature tried another tactic. It flung a bed at Snape's head. He deflected it with his wand, and it broke though the shutters and sailed out the window. The creature tore a bedframe into pieces and sent them rushing at Snape. He deflected most of them. One piece managed to slice across his upper back and exposed a bloody shoulder.

Madame Pomfrey struggled to keep herself between the boys and that profane thing. Harry took advantage of her distraction and snatched her wand out of her hand. She hollered after him. Harry raced in front of Snape and shouted, "Stupefy!"

"No, Potter!" bellowed Snape, but he was too late. The creature absorbed the spell's energy and used it to fling Snape violently backwards. His head was mere inches from colliding with the wall when his body abruptly stopped and floated gently to the floor. Pomfrey ran to him, but he was back on his feet in an instant shoving her back to the boys.

A rush of frigid stale air blew across the room and a dull grey light appeared next to the creature. The light seemed to be emanating from something small that was lying on the floor. The silhouettes of other creatures appeared in it. Harry had unwittingly given the creature enough energy to open a portal. Harry stood immobilized by uncertainty. He did the only thing he could think of to help Snape, and now he stood alone in front of that thing. He had no idea what Snape had been chanting, and didn't know what to do. He felt himself being shoved back to the corner of the room and was powerless to stop it. He rejoined Pomfrey and the other boys and was set free, except for a bluish wall of energy that separated them from the creatures. Seamus and Dean beat their hands against it, but couldn't move beyond it.

Snape strode past the barrier toward the creatures and resumed his chanting.

"Look!" cried Neville, "It's Dumbledore!" Behind the creature's thick veil of darkness, shrouded in a light of his own making, stood Dumbledore. The creature shrunk in fear and refused to face him. It continued to focus its attacks on Snape. Dumbledore raised his hands, as though taking something between them, and slowly moved them together. He was also chanting, but it was different from what Snape was speaking.

"Haec limina pertransiri non potest." (This threshold cannot be crossed.)

Dumbledore moved closer to the creatures, bringing his hands together as he did so. The silhouetted creatures began to scream, and claw, and bite at each other and at the unseen doorway. All the furniture in the room began to slide into the closing portal. Snape's feet slid toward the creatures. He leaned back trying to pull away from the invisible force that was dragging him nearer to oblivion. He never stopped chanting.

Only Snape's head and bloodied shoulder remained visible. The rest of him was engulfed in the closing portal. Dumbledore stepped forward, moving freely through the shrinking space, and pulled Snape free. Steam rose from Snape's robes; Dumbledore's were pristine. Dumbledore turned around to face the nearly closed portal, put his hands together, and gripping them tightly said finally, "Haec limina pertransiri non potest. Via clausa est." (This threshold cannot be crossed. The way is closed.)

The portal closed with a tremendous explosive sound that was heard all the way to Hogsmeade. Pomfrey and the boys were protected from its effects by Dumbledore's energy shield. Snape wasn't so lucky. He gripped his ears and staggered. Dumbledore conjured a chair for him and sat him down. He had to hold him in place as Snape was listing to one side and nearly fell off the chair. Blood trickled from both his ears.

Dumbledore took down his shield and Madame Pomfrey ran to Snape. She moved her wand over his ears, one at a time. He grimaced as she worked on him. She then turned and ran to her storeroom for a healing potion. Dumbledore released Snape, who was now able to sit upright.

The door to the hospital wing flew open and Hagrid stormed in with McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout in tow. A growing crowd of frightened students appeared outside the room.

"Ah, Hagrid, just the person I wanted to see." Dumbledore extended his hand and a little doll that had lain unnoticed on the floor flew into it. "Take this doll to Hogsmeade and ask if anyone knows anything about it. Also, ask if anyone's been ill or has been behaving strangely. Minerva, Pomona, and Filius, get the students back to their houses, then follow after Hagrid. There may be some unfortunate victims who'll need to be restrained. Bring them back here."

"Is that the cursed object you had Filius and I look for?" said Sprout.

"It is," replied Dumbledore. "I suspect it entered the hospital wing hidden in the pocket of Neville's coat."

"What are we dealing with, Albus?" said Flitwick

"Some very Dark Magic, Filius. The perpetrator of which will no doubt be a highly skilled and very learned Sorcerer. Use extreme caution."

The professors filed out of the room ushering their students back to their houses. Dumbledore turned to Madame Pomfrey. "We may be needing your services, Poppy."

"I hope they don't mind standing because I have no beds to put them in."

"Let me just take care of that for you." Dumbledore slipped his wand out of his sleeve and waved it around the room. He conjured several rows of beds complete with night tables. "Better?"

"Oh, yes, thank you, Albus."

"You may go back to your dormitory, boys. I assure you, it's perfectly safe now."

"What just happened, Professor?" said Harry. "What was that thing?"

"That was a type of spirit, Harry. A being that doesn't belong in this world. It would take a very talented witch or wizard to bring it here. This sort of magic is very old and very dark."

"So that thing was living inside the doll?"

"Correct, Harry. One of the benefits of being a spirit is that one doesn't require a great deal of room. Now off to bed." Dumbledore moved his hand to usher the boys along. Harry stopped at the door and looked back. "Do forgive my tardiness, Severus," said Dumbledore as he patted Snape's good shoulder. "Peeves had a terrified first year cornered in the toilet."

Snape was still seated. He looked up at the Headmaster, wide-eyed, and opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. He sat silently sipping from a goblet. He looked like one of Hagrid's pets had spent the day dragging him though the Forbidden Forest. Dumbledore didn't have a wrinkle or a spot on his robes. Even his hair was neat.

"You've had enough for one evening, Severus. I can carry on without you. Get some rest, my boy."


	13. Chapter 13

Harry was unusually quiet as he and the boys returned to their dormitory. As frightened as they'd been the past few weeks, Dumbledore's assurance that their dorm room was safe was enough to give them the courage to enter it without hesitation.

"It smells really good in here," said Dean huffing in deep breaths.

"Like wild flowers," said Neville.

"It's so much warmer too," said Seamus.

Harry sat down on his trunk, twiddling his wand, which he'd retrieved from his bedside table.

"What is it, Harry?"

"I was so sure, Ron. I really thought it was Snape."

"We all did, mate," replied Ron.

"Yeah, because of me," said Harry.

"None of us were thinking clearly," said Seamus as he stretched himself out on his bed.

"And Snape is a git," offered Ron.

"It's really my fault," piped Neville. "I'm the one who brought the little man here. I could've killed us all."

"There's no way you could possibly have known, Neville," shot Harry.

"Just don't pick up any more little men," said Dean with a broad grin.

"Or Snape dolls," added Harry.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Hagrid rushed to The Hog's Head with the little doll stowed safely in his waistcoat pocket. He began hollering for the owner and operator of the pub before he even reached the front door of the dreary unkempt establishment. A few raps on the door produced a bleary-eyed and disgruntled-looking Aberforth Dumbledore dressed in a tattered brown dressing gown with matching bedroom slippers. His wand was drawn. Hagrid gave him no time to speak.

"Sorry fer the disturbance, Aberforth, but I'm on official Hogwarts business." Hagrid puffed his chest proudly as he spoke.

Aberforth rolled his eyes and grumbled to himself as he waved Hagrid inside. He flicked his wand, still grumbling, and two candles that were sitting on a dusty shelf behind the bar were set alight and floated over to settle on the nearest table.

"And what does my pompous brother want this time?" spat Aberforth as he and Hagrid sat opposite each other.

"I'll not get caught in a fight 'tween brothers," replied Hagrid in an icy tone.

Aberforth grinned. He well knew how fond Hagrid was of his brother and loved goading the half-giant on the subject. Hagrid was clearly having none of it on this occasion. But it was very late in the evening and Aberforth was tired, so he relented.

"I hope you woke me up for something important, Hagrid."

"I did," said Hagrid gravely as he pulled the tiny doll from his pocket and set it on the table in front of Aberforth. "Have yeh seen this before?"

"Course not! How many mums drag their little ones into a place like this? I'm in no mood for jokes, Hagrid!" growled Aberforth.

"This ain't a joke! Five students nearly died 'cause o' this doll!"

Aberforth sat up a little straighter and eyed the doll warily. "Is it cursed?"

"It was," replied Hagrid, "but yer brother--"

"My heroic brother saved the day like he always does," spat Aberforth.

Hagrid snatched up the doll and stuffed it back in his pocket. "Have yeh been feelin' ill or even a bit off lately?"

"Nope."

"Have yeh noticed anyone behavin' strangely?"

"In here?" snorted Aberforth.

"This is serious," said Hagrid sharply.

"Customers have their meals, drink a pint or three, and conduct their business. I don't get involved."

Hagrid rose abruptly. "I don' 'ave time for this. I've got work teh do."

"I'm not being thick, Hagrid," said Aberforth with a sigh. He rubbed his tired eyes as he continued. "There's been nothing out of the ordinary. I'm sorry I can't be more helpful."

Hagrid turned, pulled the pub door open and was halfway out when Aberforth spoke again. "Wait a minute, lad!" Hagrid turned and Aberforth met him. "There was a witch in here a few weeks ago. She came in for lunch. I thought it a bit odd since the ladies tend to prefer Rosmerta's place, but I don't pry into people's affairs. She didn't do anything unusual, just ate her meal and left. I thought her voice sounded familiar, but I can't place it. I don't know if that'll help you."

"What did she look like?"

"Don't know, her cloak was hooded and she kept it pulled low on her face."

Hagrid thanked the younger Dumbledore and trudged off into the night toward The Three Broomsticks. A dim flickering light wavered in the windows. The door was unlocked so Hagrid let himself in. He was met by Filius Flitwick who'd risen from a table at the back of the pub that he'd been sharing with an anxious-looking Madame Rosmerta.

"Evening, Hagrid," called Rosmerta.

"Rosmerta," nodded Hagrid.

"Any luck with Aberforth?" said Filius.

"No."

"Well, at least he didn't curse you for waking him up."

"I suppose that's somethin'," said Hagrid as he set himself down across from Rosmerta.

"Can I get you anything, Hagrid?" said Rosmerta.

"No thanks, I'm on official business."

"Oh, right," replied Rosmerta with a mischievous grin.

Hagrid pulled the little doll out of his pocket and laid it on the table. "Yeh seen this before?"

"No, I haven't," replied Rosmerta. "Is it important?"

"Albus thinks it is," said Filius. "It was apparently cursed, but it's quite safe now. Albus took care of it."

"Did anyone come askin' fer a missin' doll?" said Hagrid.

"No, and I was just telling Filius that I haven't noticed anyone behaving strangely."

"Have you noticed anyone who looked ill or unusually tired?" said Filius.

"Simon Corsair said his nephew had splattergroit and he was leaving for Kent to help his sister care for him, but that was almost three weeks ago."

"Were they here recently?" said Filius.

"No, I haven't seen the boy since he was about four. He's six now. His name's Evan."

"Was there a healer called?" said Filius.

"Oh, yes," replied Rosmerta.

"Why's that important?" said Hagrid.

"If a healer's involved, then other medical personal are also familiar with the case and would've known if something was out of the ordinary," answered Filius.

"I'm not sure I'm followin' yeh, Professor."

"A private healer would likely have a medi-witch to assist and a potions-maker to make medicine. Since splattergroit is so dangerous and contagious, a specialist from St. Mungo's was likely called in and would have to report back to the hospital. So in either case a chain of medical personnel would have been familiar with the boy's ailment, and would've reported any unusual findings, which would then have been reported to the Ministry and Albus would have heard news of it. It's still worth investigating, but I doubt that Corsair's nephew has the same condition that the students had."

"Agatha Bradshaw came in for a pot of soup last week," said Rosmerta." She said her husband was feeling under the weather. Her husband, Danny, loves my chicken so--"

"Where do the Bradshaws live?" said Filius as he sprang from his chair.

"The south end of the village; it's the last cottage, sits by itself..."

Flitwick didn't wait for Rosmerta to finish. He dashed to the door and was halfway out when Hagrid rounded on him.

"Do yeh want me teh come with yeh, Professor?"

"No, no; go help Pomona and Minerva. They're scouring the village streets for unusual items."

Filius disapparated with a squeaky pop. He reappeared at the end of Hogsmeade village. The Bradshaw's cottage was easy to spot. It sat by itself at some distance from the other homes and all but the front of it was surrounded by a dense thicket. The garden gate stood open and Filius eyed it warily; it seemed too inviting. He passed slowly through the gate. Once inside, he stopped to scan the garden. The front garden was a little overgrown, but it looked neat compared to the tangled mess of shrubbery and scrawny trees growing around the sides and at the back of the cottage.

Filius approached the front door cautiously. It would have been reassuring to have Hagrid's muscle behind him, but he felt that a covert approach was more prudent. Nothing against the half-giant, but he wasn't exactly stealthy. Filius stood next to the door with his back pressed against the cottage wall and cast a silent alohomora. The lock unlatched and the door slowly swung open. Filius quickly poked his head around the door-frame and returned to his original position. He'd seen nothing. He waited a moment before entering the cottage in the off chance that someone inside had seen him.

The rooms on the first floor were sparse and untidy. Several different colors splattered the walls in each room. It seemed the couple were redecorating and couldn't decide which colors they liked. The pot of chicken soup that Rosmerta had mentioned sat virtually untouched on the kitchen counter. A child's toy cauldron sat next to it.

There was only one room on the first floor that Filius hadn't explored, and it was adjacent to the stairs. He approached with caution as he'd done with all the other rooms. His wand's tip gave off a small amount of light, barely enough to see by. Filius slowly pushed open the door. The room was as dark as the rest of the house. He surmised by the many silhouettes that much of the Bradshaw's furniture had been stored in the room while they redecorated.

It was difficult to navigate through the room because of all the clutter. Even Filius' small frame was too large to move about easily. He was bumping into furniture, and his robes seemed to be catching on everything. He had two choices; cast more light from his wand or risk toppling over furniture. He chose the former.

A swelling pool of light formed around the professor, and he moved in a circle trying to decide where to go next. In front of him sat a long couch and behind it a table. Both sides of the couch were blocked by furniture, and Filius had no intention of climbing the couch and poking his face under the table to have a look for fear of what might be lurking under it.

Everything in the room had been placed so haphazardly that there was no other option but to rearrange everything. Filius raised his wand and was about to speak when he heard a strange sound, like something scraping on the bare-wood floor. He turned to see an inferius rising from underneath the table. It lunged at him with preternatural speed, but was impeded by the long heavy couch.

Filius managed to duck under a small side table. The inferius dove for him, but Filius rolled out of the way. The creature was clambering over large pieces of furniture and throwing smaller items out of its way. This was the one time in Filius' life where he could say with confidence that his small stature was an asset.

He ducked behind a stack of chairs and the creature was momentarily confused as to how to get past them. Filius used the time to charm a velvet curtain tie and wrap it around the inferius' ankles. He darted past the creature again, and it fell on its face as it lunged for him. In one deft swish of his wand, Filius neatly stacked all the furniture around the perimeter of the room, leaving only himself and the crawling inferius in the center. He next conjured a circle of flame to hold creature without damaging it.

Inferi were capable of speech and could sometimes answer simple questions. Of course, it would take an exceptionally gifted witch or wizard to interrogate an inferius and that was one task that Filius wasn't up for. The charms used to animate an inferius and make it perform tasks were numerous and incredibly complex. Inferi were immune to most spells so restraining one long enough to communicate with it was exceedingly difficult. He knew of only one wizard who could both restrain an inferius and make it speak, and had actually witnessed him do it in the First Wizarding War. The circle of fire should contain the creature until Albus could be contacted.


	14. Chapter 14

Filius exited the room breathing heavily from both exertion and fear. The inferius was growling and snarling and making the most unearthly sounds trying to find a way out of the ring of fire. "So much for the stealth approach," whispered Filius. He turned and began quietly climbing the stairs.

A systematic search of the upstairs rooms produced nothing. The upstairs rooms were in the same state as the downstairs rooms. Filius deliberately left the master bedroom for last. He rolled his wand in his hand to get a better grip and swished it in the direction of the master bedroom's closed door. It swung open slowly. The room was dark, but the windows were only partially covered and the bright starry sky cast a dim ghostly light that shone across the bed illuminating two sleeping bodies.

There was something unnatural about the way the two figures were sleeping. Their breathing was deep and regular, and their forms unmoving. But the blankets that covered them didn't just move up and down with each breath; they also moved, more like undulated, from side to side. It was a very subtle movement, but Filius' keen eye caught it. He swished his wand again and lit every candle and lantern in the room. What he saw made him gag. He turned away momentarily and placed his hand over his mouth to suppress the sudden violent urge to vomit.

Daniel Bradshaw's head and left arm up to the shoulder were exposed to the air. His skin was covered by a slimy, glistening, white growth. His head and face was almost completely obscured by the same white growth. Agatha, who lay next to him, had only her head exposed to the air. Very little of her face was visible. What skin Filius could see was a deep shade of inflamed red. Much of Agatha's lovely, long, blond hair lay in heaps on the bedside and on the floor. Filius steeled himself and leaned in just a little closer for a better look at Agatha's face. The white growth was actually a tightly grouped pack of moving parasites. They weren't maggots, and they weren't any type of worm that Filius had ever seen before.

Filius dared not pull the couple's blankets back for fear of what he might find. This was a job for Poppy Pomfrey, and he needed to contact her immediately. He stood upright just in time to see a long, pale-pink, filament-like structure snaking its way across the bed from Daniel's hand. In one deft movement of his wand, Filius cut the thread of pink tissue, flung it into the air above his head, and set it alight. The tiny pieces of grey ash floated lazily to the floor at Filius' feet. He backed out of the room, letting the couple sleep. Waking them up to this horror would be unconscionable. He sprinted down the stairs and fire-called Albus.

"Yes, Filius?" came the steady and benevolent voice of Albus Dumbledore.

"I need Poppy at the Bradshaw cottage immediately, Albus. They're desperately ill. It appears to be a parasitic infection, the likes of which I've never seen before."

"Poppy will be there in two shakes of a wand, Filius."

"That's not all, Albus. I've trapped an inferius in the sitting room...Albus? Are you there?" Filius had barely finished the question when he heard a knock at the front door. Filius rolled his eyes. There was only one person who could be there. He opened the door to find Albus standing there. "You could've just come in."

"I didn't want to be rude," replied Albus. Dumbledore strode past Flius and up the stairs.

"The inferius is down here, Albus."

"I want to investigate this...contagion," replied Dumbledore.

"It's the room at the end of the hall," hollered Filius. Albus had just disappeared up the stairs when Poppy Pomfrey arrived. Her face was covered with a breathing mask, she had rubber gloves on up to her elbows, and a satchel full of medical supplies hung from her shoulder. "Good to see you, Poppy. The Bradshaws are upstairs, and they're in a terrible state. You'll need a strong stomach."

"I've seen things that would give you nightmares, Filius."

"No doubt," replied Filius as he waved for her to follow him.

"You should stay down here, Filius," said Poppy.

"No point, I've already been exposed."

They were near to the top of the stairs when they met Dumbledore on his way back down.

"Albus!" exclaimed Poppy. "You shouldn't be up here!"

"It's quite alright, Poppy. I'll have some of Severus' anti-parasitic potion when I get back to Hogwarts."

"Oh, that man!" grumbled Poppy as Albus passed her, a mischievous grin floated on his lips.

The loud snarling growls made the inferius easy to find. Albus pushed the door open to find the frenzied creature still corralled in a circle of enchanted fire. Filius had charmed it a lovely shade of light purple. Few people realized what an excellent sense of humor Filius had. His humor was subtle and many didn't pick up on it. Others assumed he didn't have a sense of humor at all because of his love of scholarly pursuits. "Pity," thought Albus.

Albus stepped close to the flames. The inferius stopped its howling noises and focused its cloudy dead eyes on the elderly wizard. Albus began to slowly pace around the circle of flame and the creature followed him. "Just as I suspected," sighed Albus. He stopped his pacing and withdrew his wand from his sleeve. The flames disappeared with a casual wave of his hand. The creature immediately dove at Albus, but a quick and silent flick of his wand stopped its movement and the inferius rose into the air appearing dazed. Its limbs hanging like a marionette's.

An army of inferi were dangerous and difficult to manage, not impossible for the likes of one Albus Dumbledore, but a challenge nonetheless. One inferius, however, was a mere trifle for him. The most dangerous part of the interrogation began once the creature was subdued. Very few witches or wizards had the power or knowledge to create an inferius, even fewer who could actually interrogate one. Whoever created this one did so with a purpose other than to simply make it act as a guard for the home. Albus suspected the creature carried a curse that would be triggered when he attempted to question it. If his suspicions were correct, then the creature was left here specifically for him to find.

"Loquor effari!" demanded Albus.(I say.) The inferius convulsed, its head turned toward Albus who braced himself for a magical attack. A small puff of lavender smoke floated out of the inferius' nostrils. The puff swelled and grew and changed color until it took the forms of three people: Albus himself as a very young man, Gellert Grindelwald, and Albus's sister, Ariana. The smoky forms were not full-sized, but they were easily recognizable despite the numerous, yet small, inaccurate details. Whoever created this charm had neither witnessed the event, nor was familiar with a first-hand account. This fact further complicated matters as most witches and wizards were familiar with Albus' great duel with Grindelwald, but most had the good manners not to mention the event in Albus' presence.

The vaporous figures commenced with their duel, and Ariana's form became more and more prominent until she was nearly Albus' size. He couldn't bear to see his sister die again; even if it was just a badly depicted re-enactment. He sliced the air viciously with his hand and the scene vanished. He turned his attention back to the creature.

"Loquor effari!" repeated Albus with a flush of temper.

The creature's mouth opened and a rumbling groan erupted from its loose greyish jowls. "Govorim." (I speak.) Its voice sounded rough as from disuse.

"What is your name?" The creature groaned again, but didn't reply. "Your name?" said Albus angrily.

"Goran," replied the inferius.

"Where are you from?" said Albus.

"Goran," repeated the inferius.(mountain-man)

"How did you die?"

"Bolezen," said the creature.(illness)

"What was the illness that afflicted you?" The creature's mouth moved as if attempting an answer, but the sounds were inarticulate. Albus presumed that the question confused it. "Describe the illness."

"Globoka voda," said the inferius.(deep water)

"Are you a muggle or a wizard?" The inferius was unable to answer so Albus rephrased the question more simply. "Čarovnik?"(Magician?)

"Ne."(No)

"How would a muggle get down there?" muttered Albus.

"Ženska," replied the creature. (Woman)

The inferius' body began to shudder and its milky eyes rolled back. Albus conjured a magical shield around it. The shuddering became more violent until the creature's entire body exploded. Pieces of its remains splattered against the shield and landed on the floor in a slimy fetid heap of putrefaction. Albus placed a coral-pink handkerchief against his nose and mouth. He flicked his wand and both the smelly mess and the magical shield were gone. The Bradshaw's bare-wood floor looked as if nothing had ever touched it.

"It appears to have been cursed after all," said Albus. He exited the room to find Pomona Sprout standing in the middle of the hall manipulating a half-dozen sprayers that were spewing copious amounts of a bright-yellow mist. She wore a breathing mask similar to Poppy's and wore heavy rubber boots that reached her knees, and matching rubber gloves up to her elbows. She shrieked when she turned to see Albus standing there.

"What in Merlin's beard are you doing in here, Albus? This mist is toxic! Out with you!"

Albus made a hasty exit and silently disapparated back to Hogwarts.


	15. Chapter 15

Kingsley Shacklebolt paced the floor of Dumbledore's office trying to work off his agitation. "I appreciate what you're saying, Albus, but I can't make my aurors be less obtrusive. The villagers are furious about the quarantine, and the aurors are at their wits' end trying to contain them. And your brother's not helping matters. That man's totally unreasonable."

"I'll have a word with Aberforth," said Albus.

"Please don't," said Shacklebolt exasperatedly. "It'll only make him more defiant."

"As you wish," said Albus. "But I could write a public letter to the occupants of Hogsmeade asking them to be more cooperative."

"That would be greatly appreciated. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm late for a meeting." Shacklebolt disappeared into the green flames of Dumbledore's fireplace just at the moment Minerva McGonagall, followed closely by Severus Snape, entered the Headmaster's office.

"Ah Minerva, just in time. So sorry to wake you, Severus."

"Quite alright, Headmaster, I had a few good hours."

Dumbledore waved his hand for the professors to sit and turned his attention back to McGonagall. "How are the Bradshaws?"

"Severus' anti-parasitic has worked well, but the..." Minerva shuddered, "...infection has done damage to their internal organs; they'll need to be re-grown before they can be safely moved to St. Mungo's."

"But they'll recover?" said Albus.

"Yes, they'll likely have some light scarring due to the extensive skin re-growth, but they'll make a full recovery in a few weeks."

"Excellent," said Albus as he sat, a bit more heavily than usual, in a large well-cushioned armchair across from Severus and beside Minerva. Severus sat with his arms folded over his chest and was already half-dozing.

"Pomona finished fumigating the Bradshaw's cottage when the aurors arrived. She and Filius have quarantined themselves in their respective chambers for the evening."

"That's prudent," replied Albus.

Minerva leaned forward a little and primly asked, "Do you plan on telling us about the inferius any time soon?"

"What?" said Severus, abruptly sitting up in his chair.

"It has been disposed of."

"This isn't a contagion at all," said Severus. "We have a dark wizard to contend with. Having so many aurors exposed in Hogsmeade could be disastrous."

"I believe it may be a witch; or more precisely, a sorceress," said Albus. "And I agree about the danger to the aurors, but I'm afraid Kingsley has his orders to follow."

"And the inferius?" said Severus.

"Filius found a single male inferius in the Bradshaw's cottage. I was able to interrogate it before a curse disintegrated it. It spoke in Slovenian and claimed that both its name and residence were called Goran."

"What does Goran mean?" said Minerva.

"It is a given name, and it means "highlander" or "mountain-dweller," replied Albus, "which is appropriate considering the Bradshaw's infection." Minerva shuddered again.

"How so, Headmaster?" said Severus.

"You are familiar with that parasite, are you not?" said Albus, his eyes twinkling.

"I'm not," said Minerva testily, "if one of you would be kind enough to explain it to me."

"There is a very rare parasite," began Severus, "that is found in very deep mountain caves; caves so deep that they're inaccessible to muggles. It's an aquatic parasite that uses fish as its host animal. It's a very small worm-like creature, and only the female is parasitic, and only for breeding purposes. She lays eggs under a fish's scale, a small blister develops and when it erupts, the larval parasites are released. The offspring will find their own hosts when they're ready to breed."

"Precisely," said Albus.

Severus frowned. "How do you mean? That worm does no permanent damage to its host animal, and it's entirely aquatic. It can't infect humans. And the ministry has long-standing laws against its procurement."

"How do you know so much about it then, Severus?" said Minerva.

"The worm is used in making...shall we say, less than legal poisons."

"How could the Bradshaw's infection and this worm be connected, Albus?" said Minerva.

"Filius said that a pink thread of tissue issued forth from Danial Bradshaw's hand--"

"The worm we're discussing has no such appendage," said Severus flatly.

"Not in its natural state," replied Albus. "But if it were, say, crossbred with something else..."

"It would take a very powerful sorceress to accomplish such a thing," said Severus.

"That's quite a great leap of logic, Albus," said Minerva.

"Goran was from a mountainous area, he was Eastern European and a muggle; he claimed to have died from a sickness found in deep water, and he claimed a woman took him deep into subterranean caves. That was all the information I could get before the body exploded."

"It really isn't much to go on, Albus," said Minerva.

"And it could be a deliberate misdirection," said Severus. "Whoever created the inferius could have charmed it to give those answers."

Albus relied on his two most trusted colleagues to give him alternatives theories, but this time Albus would not be swayed. He was certain the answers he received from Goran were genuine. "I've asked Kingsley to investigate rural villages where the parasite is known to be found."

"Why not cities or large towns?" said Minerva. "A contagion would be found more easily in a larger population."

"That's precisely the point, Minerva," continued Albus. "Eastern cities aren't the intended targets. Small muggle villages are isolated and easy to use as testing grounds."

"Testing grounds for what, Albus?" said Minerva. "This parasitic infection was easy enough to contain. If this alleged sorceress is bent on causing large-scale damage, she hasn't done a very good job of it so far."

"These were just teasers, Minerva," replied Albus gravely. "Something else is coming, but I don't know what. What I do know is that we've been given a trail of breadcrumbs to follow, and it appears to be leading to Hogwarts."

Minerva rose, looking concerned but resolute. "I'm going to patrol the halls and make sure all the children are in their houses."

"Very good," said Albus.

Minerva had barely closed the office door behind her when Kingsley Shacklebolt fire-called Albus.

"You there, Albus?"

"Yes, Kingsley."

"You were right again, Albus. We've found two high-mountain villages that have been wiped out. Not a single person left alive, yet the livestock were left unharmed. They're malnourished, but otherwise unmolested. Very strange." A loud knocking sound rang through from Kinglsey's side. "Gotta go," he whispered, and his head disappeared from the flames.

Albus walked back to his chair looking pensive.

"Why kill the people and not the animals, or at least take them? Very peculiar," said Severus.

"The animals were inconsequential. The tests needed to be performed on people," replied Albus.

"But why choose muggles when the targets are wizards? We're not prone to the same ailments."

"Because it would take longer for the ministry to detect, and because it was easy. Miss Coldwater was always very lazy."

"Do you mean Esmerelda Coldwater, the Welsh witch?"

"I do, and I believe you've made her acquaintance, Severus."

"Of course, she was the Dark Lord's favorite potion maker until I joined his ranks. Why do you think it's her? She's presumed long dead."

Albus held out his hand and a small child's toy flew from his desk and settled in his palm. "Hagrid received information from a person who wishes to remain anonymous." Albus leaned forward and handed the toy cauldron to Severus. "Daniel Bradshaw found that toy lying in the street. He sought an owner, but couldn't find one. He'd intended it as a gift for his niece. Filius found it sitting on the kitchen counter next to a pot of soup. The healers from St. Mungo's examined it, and it did indeed contain parasite eggs, which have been disposed of."

"This is your evidence?" said Severus.

"Who do you know that was gifted enough to create an inferius and also liked children's toys?" Severus handed back the toy, a scowl creeped onto his sullen face. "Only one witch comes to mind," said Albus, answering his own question. "Coldwater is magically gifted, shrewd, extremely arrogant, and above all else, she's lazy. She would be both arrogant and lazy enough to test a magical contagion on muggles and not wizards."

"Why now, after so many years?"

"I don't know for certain, Severus. But we can assume that mutating those parasites took her a good deal of work; research and trial-and-error. Knowing her as I do, I'd wager that her initial efforts were unsuccessful. Every time she failed, she quit in a rage, and it would be some time for her to return to her work. Tell me, Severus, do you know the details of her death?"

"I know only what Lucius told me. Coldwater refused to bow to the Dark Lord and refused to take his mark. He was infuriated. He sent Lucius, Crabbe, and Goyle, to dispatch her. She led them high into the Welsh mountains. They dueled and Lucius cast the killing curse. He thought it hit her because she fell into the deep caverns below. Lucius doesn't like to get his robes dirty so those dunderheads, Crabbe and Goyle, were sent to fetch her body. They never found it, but the Dark Lord was obsessed with the Potters by this point and didn't care."

"What was Coldwater's potions' specialty, Severus?"

"Hemorrhagic poisons."

"Oh, Merlin!"


	16. Chapter 16

It was a bright sunny Saturday morning, just after breakfast. Hogwarts students were free to roam the castle, but any outdoor spaces were strictly off-limits for the duration of the Ministry-enforced quarantine. Students were milling around aimlessly, many were perched in large open windows looking longingly outside. Scuffles were already beginning to erupt, mostly between rival houses, but some were inter-house arguments. Every teacher in the school was patrolling the halls; even Dumbledore was present for a time. He called for an impromptu concert in the Great Hall. Any student who could sing or play an instrument was encouraged to perform. It was lively and pleasant until Dumbledore was called away. Students slowly began to wander off seeking more excitement.

"That was fun while it lasted," said Lee Jordan.

"Off to new adventures," said George Weasley.

Fred Weasley followed behind his twin brother and friend. "The old man does know how to throw a party." The trio exited the Great Hall squeezing their ways through an agitated throng of students. Filch, the caretaker, narrowed his eyes and glared at them as they passed him. He held his cat, Mrs. Norris, protectively in his arms. "Morning," said Fred cheerfully and Filch scowled hatefully at him. Fred grinned.

"Fancy some fun with Gunhilda," whispered George.

"Security's too tight," said Jordan, who cleared his throat several times. "Teachers are everywhere." He cleared his throat again.

"What's wrong with you?" said George.

"I strained my throat singing."

"Sounded more like shrieking to me," said Fred. Jordan elbowed him. "Let's mingle in with that group of sixth years."

The trio followed closely behind a large group of mostly sixth-year students who were agitatedly discussing quidditch. They were so engrossed in their sports debate that they hadn't noticed the tag-alongs. The group was comprised of students from several houses and the discussion was quickly becoming heated and drew the attention of a passing teacher. The trio quickly abandoned their original plan and found themselves in the middle of a group of sixth and seventh-year girls walking in the opposite direction. Their plans with Gunhilda were nearly abandoned entirely until the girls had had enough of them and shooed them away.

They found themselves walking in circles following groups of students while trying to get to the passage of the one-eyed witch. They'd never seen in-school security so tight. They'd passed by McGonagall several times, and she was eyeing them suspiciously. Snape looked exhausted for some reason, and had spent most of the morning breaking up fights between Slytherins and members of the other three houses, and had therefore paid little attention to the sneaky trio.

"We're getting nowhere like this," grumbled Jordan.

"Patience," said George. "We'll go in for an early lunch and then head straight for the third floor."

Jordan shook his head. "Too many teachers, we can't get past them."

"Oh, ye of little faith," said Fed. "The teachers are watching for students wandering about aimlessly. They won't notice us if we look like we have somewhere to be and something to do."

"The best place to hide is in plain sight," agreed George.

"I'm in then," said Jordan with a careless shrug.

The three boys ate quickly and exited the Great Hall just as the majority of the students and teachers were entering for lunch. They walked quickly and with deliberation and made it to the third floor unimpeded.

"Dissendium," said George quietly, and the hump on the back of Gunhilda of Gorsemoor's statue opened. "Told you it would work."

One after another the three boys slid down the witch's hump. They'd done it so many times that they landed almost gracefully in the passageway.

"Race you to Honeydukes," shouted Fred as he sprinted down the passage.

Honeydukes sweet shop was as silent as a crypt when the boys entered the shop's cellar. The owners must be losing a great deal of revenue because of the quarantine. Huge stacks of boxes lined the room; all bore labels stating that they'd been inspected by a ministry official for tainted contents. The boys crept about the room looking for their favorite treats and anything that might be easy to carry.

"Psst," whispered Jordan from a shadowy cobweb-covered corner. The twins turned to him. He held a large, black, glass bottle in his hand. "There are three boxes of this stuff."

"What is it?" whispered George.

"Smells like wine," replied Jordan, "raspberry maybe."

"Turn the bottle around," said Fred, grinning madly. A gold engraving of Bacchus with bushels of grapes around him adorned the glass bottle. "We'll make a fortune."

"How?" whispered Jordan. Fred produced a small, 50ml, glass bottle from his pocket. "One bottle?"

"Gemino charm," said George. "The copies ought to last long enough for people to drink the wine."

"Brilliant," whispered Jordan.

A creak in the floorboards above their heads sent them scurrying, each with a case of raspberry wine in their arms.

##

Minerva McGonagall strode through the halls asking students if they'd seen Lee Jordan and the Weasley twins. Dozens of students had recalled seeing them with dozens more students, but no one knew where they were. Minerva feared that the boys had managed to get out onto the school grounds and went looking for them. She made sure to tell Pomona Sprout where she was going.

McGonagall searched the quidditch pitch, and the owlery, and the lake, and any other place she thought the boys might be. She found herself pounding on the door of Hagrid's hut. When she received no answer, she steeled the courage to peer into one of Hagrid's windows. She normally wouldn't have been so rude, but her worry for the three boys overrode her sense of etiquette. Hagrid wasn't home.

She turned and looked at the uninviting edge of the Forbidden Forest and said, "Dear Merlin, I hope they're not in there." She saw Hagrid's dog, Fang, run out from the wood line, then heard a whistle which presumably came from Hagrid as the dog turned around and disappeared into the woods again. "Hagrid!' shouted Minerva as she sprinted to the spot where she'd seen the dog. Hagrid appeared within seconds.

"Afternoon, Professor," said Hagrid a little too cheerily.

"Have you seen Lee Jordan and the Weasley twins? They've been missing since lunch."

"Nope, can't say I 'ave," said Hagrid. He was shifting his weight from foot to foot and kicking clumps of dirt and grass out of the ground, and he was fussing with his jerkin.

"Hagrid, you're the worst liar I've ever met! Please don't try to cover for the boys. They must be found."

"I'm not coverin' fer nobody, Professor. Truth is I'm not sure what I saw. There was a flash of red movin' through the shrubbery and I assumed, er I thought...maybe...the twins might...'ave gotten lost, yeh see. So I went lookin' fer 'em."

"Gotten lost," snorted Minerva. She boldly strode past Hagrid into the woods. "I'll help you search for them, but we'll cover more ground separately, Hagrid."

Hagrid whistled for Fang and disappeared amongst the trees in the opposite direction of Minerva. He whispered down to fang, "I hope we find 'em first. The professor's in a right foul mood."

##

Sneaking back to the Gryffindor common room was nearly as difficult as getting to Gunhilda. They didn't stop to chat, but Fred made sure he told everyone he passed that he had something 'special' for them and to spread the word. The trio sat in their dormitory for the next hour creating copies of Fred's bottle and filling them with raspberry wine. Jordan charmed the clear bottles to have two golden 'W's interconnected by a red 'J'. By dinner time, nearly everyone had bought a bottle.

"What's that?" said Hermione. She was frowning at Ron suspiciously as they made their way to the Great Hall for dinner.


	17. Chapter 17

Ron downed the rest of the bottle's contents and stuffed it in his pocket. "That was the best wine I've ever tasted," replied Ron.

"How would you know?" said Ginny from Hermione's other side. "You've never drunk wine before."

"Like you have," began Ron smugly as they entered the Great Hall. His eyes darted down for a brief second and he flushed a mortified shade of red. "Uh, Ginny, you...um...down there...you need to...um..."

"What are you babbling about?" said Ginny as she looked down at her legs. Two streams of blood were trickling their ways down over her knees. Hermione quickly took a handkerchief from her pocket and charmed it to the size of a small blanket. She handed it to Ginny to cover herself.

"You've sat in something, mate," said George as he passed by Harry.

"So have you," replied Harry as he felt the back of his trousers. His hand was covered in a red liquid. George paused, puzzled, and felt the back of his trousers. Fred and Lee did the same.

"What the hell have you given us?" shouted Ron. But no answer came because at that precise moment the entire student body rose and began screaming in a panic.

"Silence!" the headmaster's voice boomed over the din. Dumbledore stood in the doorway of the Great Hall. His eyes passed quickly over the scene; blood was trickling from the eyes, ears, noses, and mouths of the students. Their trousers and skirts were covered in blood. He waved his wand and the long tables and benches disappeared; hospital beds took their places. "I want each of you to lie down in the nearest bed."

The students cries were reduced to snuffles and all of them did as they'd been told. Older students were patting and trying to calm younger students. Whispers of reassurance floated around the hall. "Dumbledore's back, everything will be fine."

Madame Pomfrey attempted to run past the teachers to get supplies from the hospital wing, but Snape grabbed her arm and stopped her. "They've been poisoned--"

"I know!" interrupted Pomfrey as she tried to break Snape's grip.

"Poppy, please," said Dumbledore. His calm yet commanding voice steadied her and Snape released his hold. "Let Severus speak."

"I know this poison. You must not administer any antidote, not even a bezoar. There's a killing curse attached to the potion; it will be triggered by an attempt to medicate the students."

"How the hell am I going to treat them!' shouted Pomfrey.

"You may administer blood replenishers and analgesics only," said Snape.

"I haven't got enough blood replenishers for the entire student body!"

"I'll contact St. Mungo's for help," said Dumbledore. Pomfrey nodded and dashed out of the Great Hall to get supplies. Snape pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket and waved his wand over it. The parchment grew in length and writing appeared on it. He handed it to Professor Sprout. "I have to brew a specific antidote for this poison. It will take an hour to make, if I'm not disturbed. I'll need everything on that list in the exact quantities specified."

Sprout quickly looked over the list. "Some of these plants aren't ready for harvest."

"Do what you can, Pomona," said Dumbledore.

"Albus, I don't have enough plants in the greenhouses for this, but I do have a wizard friend who's a supplier."

"Contact him immediately, and I'll have some aurors escort the supplies inside the castle."

"What about Minerva, Albus?" said Pomona. "She went looking for Jordan and the Weasley twins. The boys are back, but Minerva's not."

"The children's safety is priority. We'll search for Minerva after." Sprout lifted her skirts and ran out of the hall, parchment in hand. "Is there anything else, Severus?"

Snape pulled a brown leather roll out of his pocket, enlarged it and partially unrolled it. The old brown strip of leather floated in the air as though it were lying on a table. He pulled a small vial of black liquid out of one of the many pockets inside the roll. "I have an antidote for this--"

"Replicate it, Severus!" said Dumbledore, fear and worry were creeping into his voice.

"It's for the original formulation, Headmaster. If the formula has been changed, this antidote will kill the students. I need a test subject."

"I'll do it!" shouted Harry. Blood was pooling behind his glasses. He yanked them off and wiped his stinging eyes with the back of his hand.

"Feeling guilty, Potter?" said Snape, his voiced sounding dangerously silky.

"Absolutely not, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Severus, this is not the time."

"But, sir!" protested Harry.

"No arguments," said Dumbledore, his tone made it clear that further argument would not be tolerated. Harry fell silent. "What was it that you ate or drank?"

"It was raspberry wine, sir," said Hermione quickly. She was hovering between Harry's and Ron's beds.

"Do any of you have any left?"

Lee Jordan pulled a full bottle from his pocket and held his hand out. "We didn't know it was poisoned, sir."

"I know that," replied Dumbledore pleasantly as he took the bottle. He popped the top and downed the dark-red liquid before anyone could stop him. "You have your test subject, Severus. How long will it take for the effects to show?"

"Up to thirty minutes."

"I need to go to my office first, and then I'll meet you in the dungeons." Snape nodded and sprinted out of the hall toward the dungeons.

Within minutes several aurors were escorting healers and potions-makers from St. Mungo's into the school. Healers went immediately to tend the children. The potions-makers set up long tables just outside the Great Hall and began brewing blood replenishers and pain killers.

"Are you quite sure this Snape fellow knows what's what?" said the supervising healer as he walked hurriedly alongside Dumbledore who, as yet, looked perfectly healthy. "My potioneers can brew top-notch antidotes."

"I'm quite certain, yes," replied Dumbledore pleasantly. "Severus has a rare gift for potion-making. He can brew Wolfsbane potion of the highest quality."

"Dear, Merlin," replied the healer, obviously impressed. "No offense, Professor, but why is this fellow working in a school and not in St. Mungo's research wing?"

"What could be more rewarding than the nurturing of young minds?" replied Dumbledore cheerily. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an urgent meeting to attend."

"Of course, Professor, rest assured that I and my team will take the best possible care of your students."

Dumbledore moved swiftly through the halls to the dungeons. By the time he arrived in Severus' laboratory, blood was just beginning to trickle from his nose and ears. Severus had already conjured a large, well-cushioned, dark-green arm chair for the headmaster with a matching footstool. Severus was bent over the empty bottle of raspberry wine that Dumbledore had drunk, busily performing tests. A variety of potions-related paraphernalia were scattered on the table around him. He didn't raise his eyes when the headmaster entered. He just pointed silently to the armchair.

Every one of Severus' cauldrons, and a handful of student cauldrons, were already prepared for brewing. The largest of the cauldrons sat on the floor, while the rest lined several rows of tables. Severus finished his tests just as Pomona Sprout entered breathlessly with several barrels and crates of supplies floating in front of her.

"There are more in the hallway, Severus," she puffed. She set her cargo down and turned to see Dumbledore's hair, beard, and robes covered in blood. He'd removed his half-moon spectacles and set them on a small side table. "Albus! Dear, Merlin, what have you done?"

Dumbledore raised a shaky hand. "It's alright, Pomona. Severus needs to test an antidote on me."

"But--," protested Sprout.

"Please don't interrupt," said Dumbledore.

Sprout stood silently at Dumbledore's side, quaking with fear. Severus approached on the elder wizard's other side and handed the anti-dote to him. Snape cradled a silver pocket watch in his hand.

"Bottoms up," said Dumbledore and he downed the black liquid in one gulp and set the empty vial on the table next to his glasses. Dumbledore grew very pale, his skin taking on a bluish color, and his breathing slowed. His eyes closed, his fingers twitched, and then his body gently shuddered. He let out a long breath, but didn't inhale. Severus reached to gently lift the headmaster's eyelids.

"How can you stand there so coldly?" said Pomona, a hitch in her voice that matched the tears forming in her eyes.

"Quiet please," replied Snape. He took up Dumbledore's wrist, feeling for a pulse, and looked at his watch.

"Severus, please!" said Pomona.

"Shh," replied Snape. Severus released Dumbledore's wrist and returned his watch to its pocket. Dumbledore suddenly, without warning, opened his eyes and drew in a great breath.

"Albus!" shouted Pomona as she dived forward to embrace him.

"How do you feel, Headmaster?" said Snape.

"Tired and weak, but otherwise well."

"Excellent," said Snape, and he turned abruptly and rummaged in a cabinet at the other end of the room.

Pomona waved her wand over Dumbledore's body and the great pools of matted blood disappeared, leaving him looking neat and well groomed.

"Thank you, Pomona," said Dumbledore weakly. "Now please go and look after the children." Pomona shot a worried glance over at Snape. "I am in good hands." Pomona nodded and shuffled quietly out of the room.

Snape returned to Dumbledore's side and set down two bottles on the little table. "You'll need a blood replenisher and a pepper-up potion...in that order."

"Thank you, Severus." A moment later Dumbledore felt strong enough to assist the Potions Master. He brought in the remaining supplies from the hall and charmed rows of knives to begin chopping, and cutting, and dicing ingredients; with Severus occasionally giving instructions. Severus was deep in concentration over his cauldrons and most people observing him would think him ruthlessly cold, but Dumbledore knew better. The boy stood in his shirt-sleeves with the cuffs turned up. Dumbledore was confident that Severus was as worried as he.

Exactly one hour later the antidote was finished. Neither wizard wasted time bottling the liquid; they just took the cauldrons with them, floating them up to the Great Hall. The condition of the poisoned students had progressed to the point where they were coughing blood and having difficulty breathing. The healers placed them in magically induced comas, each with a breathing apparatus placed over their faces. None were able to drink, so the antidote would have to be spelled into their stomachs.

"The student's conditions are dire," said the supervising healer with great agitation.

Severus didn't address the comment, nor did he introduce himself. "The antidote will cause mild shuddering and the students will stop breathing. If breathing doesn't resume within thirty seconds, they'll need to be resuscitated."

"Here now--!" began the healer; but Madame Pomfrey bustled by, interrupting him. "Thank you, Severus," she said with enthusiastic gratitude as she commandeered a small cauldron and began spelling its contents into nearby students. So great was her confidence in Severus' potion that the healer began instructing his team to follow her lead.

Severus stood stock-still with his arms folded over his chest staring darkly into the Great Hall. Dumbledore paced incessantly outside the hall's doors. Moments later the supervising healer returned looking delighted. "It worked," he shouted excitedly and shook both Dumbledore's and Snape's hands. Dumbledore looked immensely relieved. Snape somehow managed to look smug.

"How did you find that antidote?" said the healer.

"It's my own invention," replied Snape silkily.

"You must teach it to my potions-makers."

Snape looked up and down both sides of the hall before he replied. "They are all former students of mine. Not a single member of that gaggle of dunderheads is capable of making the antidote." He stalked away toward the dungeons without another word. The healer stood with his mouth agape.

"A man of few words," smiled Dumbledore.


	18. Chapter 18

Minerva had been walking for ages and her feet ached. She followed what appeared to be a trail left by a single person until it went cold. She pulled a piece of scarlet-red fabric from a thorny bush and sat down on a nearby stump to rest. "This must be the red that Hagrid saw," she muttered to herself. Beside the stump, half-hidden by vines, was a dark-skinned doll wearing a dark-green dress. Minerva shifted and her foot bumped the doll. She immediately felt herself being pulled away from the Forbidden Forest at a great rate of speed. Minerva had traveled by portkey before and knew the feeling well, but she didn't know what object had been enchanted to bring her to her new destination. She had no idea where she was going and braced herself for confrontation. The moment her feet landed on the ground a hand shot out in front of her face and she inadvertently inhaled a fine pinkish-looking powder. Her world quickly went black.

The sound of someone humming pleasantly was the first thing that Minerva noticed. She had no sense of her body at first, just a warm relaxed feeling that pervaded her senses. The humming sound began to move around her in a circular fashion. The person making the noise must've noticed that Minerva was rousing. She wasn't sure if she had moved, but there most likely had been a change in her breathing that gave away her return to consciousness.

Minerva opened her eyes. Everything was bright and blurry. It was a moment or two before she could raise her head. Her neck hurt, most likely from her chin being slumped against her chest for too long. She attempted to raise her hand and that's when she realized that she was tied to a chair; secured with enchanted strips of red silk that bound her wrists and ankles.

"I was hoping to catch that great oaf, Hagrid; but you'll do," said a feminine voice. Then closer, in her ear, "You're a much bigger prize."

"Who are you?" slurred Minerva.

"You'll figure it out when you're more alert." Minerva heard light footfalls moving away from her; then the sound of someone inhaling deeply. "There's no air purer than in the Welsh mountains. Just look at that view." Minerva felt her chair rise and move forward. She was startled and the shot of adrenaline in her body roused to her near full wakefulness. She pressed her back into the chair, fearing that the witch was going to throw her over the cliff. Instead, her chair settled precariously at the very edge of the high-mountain cave the two women currently occupied. "Majestic, isn't it?" Minerva would've answered 'yes' had she not been tied to a chair that was teetering on the edge of a sheer cliff.

Minerva looked out from the highest peak in a long circle of mountainous ridges. A large, glistening, blue pool sat stilly in the canyon below them. Spots of snow capped the many rocky peaks, and sparse green and brown grass dotted the slopes. The sky above was a clear azure blue filled with heavy, white, rolling clouds. The air smelled cool, crisp, and clean.

She was now fully awake and recognized the witch holding her hostage. Minerva's words were bold despite her perilous situation. "Esmerelda Coldwater, the laziest witch that ever disgraced the noble house of Ravenclaw." A silent wave of Esmerelda's wand sent Minerva's chair sliding quickly backwards. She could see her wand left unattended on a round dining table. Much of the cave was decorated and quite cozy, like a pleasant sitting room. Colorful children's toys were scattered throughout. An obsessive fondness for toys was one of Esmerelda's quirks. Just over her right shoulder, Minerva could see a boulder that was just large enough to hide behind if she crouched very low. Smaller rocks and boulders were scattered on her other side. It looked as though there might have been a cave-in at one time.

"Ever the loud-mouthed Gryffindor giving a display of false courage even when she has no chance of escaping," said Esmerelda coolly. "You won't dampen my spirits, Minerva, try as you might."

"I suppose you plan on killing me," said Minerva matter-of-factly, and it made Esmerelda giggle.

"Of course I do, silly. But I suppose we could have a bit of girl time first. You're probably dying to know what I've been up to...," Esmerelda grimaced, "Oh dear me, do pardon the pun." She sat down at her dining table and twirled her wand. "Tea?"

"No, thank you."

"It's not poisoned." Minerva didn't reply. "Suit yourself," shrugged Esmerelda and poured herself a steaming cup of fragrant herbal tea.

Minerva assumed that the doll Longbottom found had been meant for a resident of Hogsmeade, so she deliberately made no mention of the students falling prey to its curse. Instead, she focused on provoking Esmerelda's irrational temper by bruising her huge ego. "Severus was more than fit for you. He cured the Hogsmeade villagers overnight. The quarantine is just precautionary."

Esmerelda smiled and rose from her chair with a newspaper in hand. She spread it out and held it for Minerva to see. "I do read the papers, dear. The ministry is calling it an outbreak of splattergroit."

"Albus dispatched that inferius of yours before it could injure anyone." Esmerelda still didn't react.

"I thought of Snape," said Esmerelda as she tossed the newspaper on the table, "when I was creating my super worms. Parasites are such repellent creatures."

"Severus had no trouble wiping them out, and I'm sure he'll have no trouble thwarting whatever else you've planned. Severus outclasses you in every way." That hit its mark. Esmerelda threw her a sharp look.

"Snape? That skinny, greasy, overgrown, garden gnome will do no such thing! There's no antidote for that poison. I never created one."

"What poison?"

"My favorite," said Esmerelda. "I invented it myself, of course. And that's what I call it-my favorite-because it's just too beautiful to name. It makes the drinker hemorrhage from every bodily orifice, slowly at first, but it speeds up. Most choke to death on their own blood before they bleed out, but they bleed, Minerva. They bleed so magnificently."

"You're a lunatic!"

"Well that's beside the point, isn't it?" shouted Esmerelda exasperatedly. She began to pace. "The point is that slimy Snape won't be able to counteract my favorite. The formulation is much too complex, and it would take too much time for him to figure out an antidote. It's impossible," she said triumphantly.

"It doesn't really matter," said Minerva casually. "You'll never get into Hogsmeade now to use it."

"It's not so difficult to get past young aurors, especially when they're quarreling with grumpy Hogsmeaders. A high-quality invisibility cloak can work wonders. Very expensive though; took me ages to afford one."

"Why didn't you just steal from the people you murdered?" said Minerva.

"Well, I did, but they were mostly poor," replied Esmerelda unperturbed. "At any rate, all I had to do was place the right item in the right place. You see, I've been watching for some time now, and I've noticed that a set of twins and their black friend, a rather nice-looking boy, have been able to break into Honeydukes cellar without notice. I'm not sure how because it was difficult to see from where I was hiding."

A tight ball formed in the pit of Minerva's stomach. She hoped her worry hadn't become visible on her face. It didn't seem that Esmerelda noticed anything because she was still talking.

"I had originally planned on poisoning the sweets in the hopes that the children would carry enough back to their friends to dispatch most of the student body. But when I saw those three boys, I changed to a better plan. All I had to do was wait for the aurors to inspect the sweets and leave; then I could place something very enticing for those three lovely boys to take back to Hogwarts. A few cases of sweet raspberry wine did the trick." Esmerelda beamed with pride.

"You're a monster."

"Not yet, but I will be."

"Why the children?"

"Isn't it obvious?" shrieked Esmerelda. "Haven't you been paying attention? I want to hurt him; to crush him!"

"Hurt who?" said Minerva, bewildered.

"Tom Riddle, of course! He sent assassins to murder me," said Esmerelda venomously. "Me, his cleverest potions-maker."

Minerva laughed. "You're master betrayed you, how delightful."

"He was never my master!" screamed Esmerelda in fury. "He was my companion in mischief, my friend. He was good fun for a time. Then he became obsessed with world domination and became a bore, so I left him. I returned home to Wales. He turned on me and I vowed to get revenge, but the bastard died before I could have it. So I had to look elsewhere."

"Schoolchildren?" shouted Minerva. "You're seeking revenge on schoolchildren?"

"No, you idiot!" Esmerelda drew in a few deep breaths and rubbed her temples to calm herself. "Who does Dumbledore care about the most?"

"You're no match for Albus Dumbledore!" snorted Minerva.

"Do you think I'm stupid? Of course, I know that! I'm not going to challenge him directly! I'm not a fool!" Esmerelda was raving now, and pacing back and forth in frenzied agitation. "There was only one wizard who Tom feared; the greatest wizard of our age. If I kill an entire school full of children under his care, Dumbledore will never recover from the guilt of not protecting them. Everyone will know that I'm the witch who destroyed him; I'm the one who ground him into despair. Everyone will fear me and Tom, wherever he is, will know that I'm not to be trifled with. I'm not inferior!"

Minerva waited for Esmerelda to stalk away from the table in her frenzied pacing. She silently accioed her wand and, in one deft move, removed her bindings and dived behind the boulder. Esmerelda reacted quickly and wounded Minerva's ankle. A trickle of dark red trailed the cave's dirty stone floor.

"Isn't it beautiful, Minerva? Isn't it lovely?" cackled Esmerelda.

Minerva used 'engorgio' to enlarge the boulder she hid behind. Esmerelda began chipping away at it, laughing all the while. Then, suddenly, she became very quiet. Minerva conjured a bandage for her ankle. She peered around the boulder and saw an army of charmed children's toys marching toward her. Esmerelda had never been a good duelist; she relied heavily on distractions. A single angry flick of Minerva's wand shattered the toys and sent them flying across the cave. A shuffling sound and a low moan alerted her to something behind her. She wasn't fast enough to move out of the way before an inferius bit into her shoulder. Minerva howled in pain.

Esmerelda sprang out, seemingly from nowhere, and splashed Minerva's robes with muggle kerosene. "Useful creatures, muggles. If you use an incendiary, you'll burn with them."

"Them?" thought Minerva. She produced a sheet of heatless pink flame from her wand and the inferius cowered. Minerva turned to see two more inferi rising from their places at the back of the cave. Esmerelda pelted her with painful stinging hexes.

Minerva had to dispatch three inferi and catch Coldwater before she exited the cave. She wasn't as fast as she'd been in her youth, but she had to try. She released the fire spell and the inferi rushed at her. Esmerelda cackled from somewhere behind her. Minerva used 'tergeo' to clean her robes of the kerosene. The inferi body slammed her just as she shot a powerful fire spell from her wand's tip. Her wand hand was thrust upwards and the flames scorched the cave's ceiling. The inferi crouched away from the heat. Minerva aimed the flames at them and moved them to the back of the cave, corralling them behind a wall of pink flame.

Esmerelda ran for the mouth of the cave and Minerva charged after her. "Levicorpus," shouted Minerva as Esmerelda dived for freedom, hoping against hope that the spell would catch the sorceress. Minerva moved quickly to the mouth of the cave and found Esmerelda hanging by her ankle. Minerva wasted no time and flung the witch hard against an inside wall.

Esmerelda retaliated with a stunning spell. A single stunning spell wasn't enough to take down a witch of Minerva McGonagall's caliber. She remained standing, flicked her wand at the many rocks and boulders in the cave, splitting them into small pebbles. She swished her wand with force and hurled hundreds of pebbles at Esmerelda, who sank to the floor unconscious.

"Remind me never to get on your bad side, Minerva," said a deep voice coming from the cave's entrance.

"Dear, Merlin, you startled me!" Kingsley Shacklebolt walked to Esmerelda's slumped form and picked up her wand. "I tried very hard not to kill her, Kingsley."

Shacklebolt laughed as he knelt to inspect Esmerelda's injuries. "I think she'd have preferred it if you had. Albus sent me after you, but you obviously don't need saving."

"I'm not past my prime yet, Kinglsey, but I'm grateful for the concern." She pointed to the rear of the cave. "There are three inferi back there."

"I'll send some aurors to take care of them, and I'll escort Ms. Coldwater to Azkaban by way of St. Mungo's so you can get those wounds tended to."

"They're only minor."

"Best to err on the side of caution, Minerva. And I'll let Albus know you're safe."

"Thank you, Kingsley."

##

Albus Dumbledore walked between the rows of beds, holding hands and patting heads and chatting with his students, his children. A ministry owl flew in and dropped an envelope into his hand and immediately flew out again. It was Kingsley Shacklebolt's personal stationary. Albus casually tore open the envelope, careful not to rouse the suspicion of the watchful students. Poppy, Filius, and Pomona drew nearer, waiting silently in anticipation.

"Minerva is well and will be rejoining us later in the evening." Poppy and the professors heaved a collective sigh of relief. "What a tale we shall have to tell her when she returns."

The End (I hope you enjoyed it.)


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